


The Devil Will Drag You Under

by saucyminx



Series: Devil Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-20
Updated: 2010-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 37,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucyminx/pseuds/saucyminx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We started off with a simple premise. What if the character of Ruby was actually a demon named Dean? Then we went from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Every part of the day spoke of fall, the encroaching winter just on the horizon. Brown and yellow leaves crunched beneath Sam’s feet and the air he steadily inhaled was cool and sharp in his lungs. He didn’t stop running though, not out of necessity but more of a fine tuning – just in case he _needed_ to run. Nothing was worse than being out of shape when you needed to sprint for your life.

He was also putting on a front and attempting to casually spy on the local housewives as they went about their morning routine. It was purely for the sake of the case. Sam was fairly confident in his assumption that something odd was going on with these women and until he found out what it was, he had to play by certain rules.

For instance, he was blending in with the environment. In this neighborhood there was nothing out of the ordinary about seeing a young man jogging along the sidewalk with headphones on. Sam could pass as anyone else. He just happened to be someone who had an exceedingly great knowledge of the other worldly and made his income through scams and cheats just so he could hunt and kill demons and other supernatural beings. Those things weren’t exactly published facts however.

Another rule of the job was to keep his head in the hunt. Sam was struggling with that one. Whether it was the early, crisp morning air or the gnawing feeling of repetition he couldn’t really say. Everything was the same. He’d done this, run these streets in a hundred other neighborhoods in the USA and it never changed. Maybe a detail or two here and there, but they were all grains of sand in the long run.

Out of the corner of his eye Sam caught movement and his steps slowed just a little, stepping sideways to appear as casual as possible. There, a woman he’d already interviewed named Martha. She was down on her hands and knees in her garden patch and Sam might not know a lot about domestic life but he was pretty sure seven thirty am was too early for anyone to care about their tulips, even the most perfect housewife.

“Morning Sam.” A woman’s voice came from the street beside him and Sam turned to her, continuing his jog in place.

“Morning ma’am.” The voice belonged to Alison. She seemed nice and was just as put together as the other girls. Her husband was clearly one of the more wealthy people on the street and he didn’t seem to have a problem showing it off in the form of worldly possessions. People like that made Sam feel a little sick and he always had to force himself to care that bad things were happening to them. After all, he could name a thousand and one people more deserving of being helped.

“What are you doing out and about so early in the day?” Alison asked with a casual flip of her hair over her shoulder.

Still on the lawn, Martha was moving now, up off the ground and backing uncertainly toward her house. Part of Sam was tempted to make a lunge for her, grab her wrist and keep her there. These women, playing around with dark arts they knew so little about. Sam’s job - and consequently life - would be so much easier if amateurs just stayed out of it.

“Just needed some morning air.” Sam nodded slowly at both women then smiled, stepping away and back on his path. “You ladies have a nice day.”

“You too, Sam.” Alison called and even though she waved as friendly as could be, Sam could feel the tension. Just like he could feel her gaze digging into his back, like she was memorizing every detail.

Another rule then, always be on your guard.

It was a real pain in the ass to think he might have underestimated these women.

-=-=-=-

Sam had been to so many motels just like this one he didn’t even take note any more. In fact, he was fairly certain he could navigate his way through any random, beaten down, hardly used motel in the US completely blindfolded without injuring himself. It wasn’t exactly something to boast about, but it was a cold hard fact none-the-less.

Stay invisible. Another rule on the list of a thousand, John Winchester’s personal survival guide to being a hunter. Not that Sam needed any sort of guide, not when he grew up living with the man as his own personal trainer. There were dozens of hunters who would envy the life he’d had. Then there was Sam, who gladly would have handed it over in a heartbeat.

That was another story all together.

Everything was thrown off whack as he headed for the motel door though. There was an itch in Sam’s throat, enough to bother him but likely not be an issue, so Sam coughed to clear his throat and get over it. Only that seemed to make it worse.

Than a sharp, intense pain was stinging along his side and Sam groaned, clutching at the area and leaning along the wall. It wasn’t like anything he’d felt before, he couldn’t name it or pinpoint its origin, and his mind instantly sparked into hunter mode. Determine the situation, asses any possible outcomes, take the steps needed to _fix_ the problem.

Unsurprisingly, it was harder to stay in hunter mode when the problem was currently a building inferno in his chest. By this point his coughing was more than the light clearing of a throat to ease a tickle and Sam had every reason to be concerned.

-=-=-=-

Rolling his eyes, Dean pressed his fingers to his temple. It was going to be a _real_ challenge working with Sam. _Samuel Winchester_. Here was the son of John Winchester, trained hunter and Stanford drop-out, _the one_ who was important to Hell.

There were things that _only_ Sam could do and Dean was the only one who could make it _all_ work. He was going to get one _hell_ of a reward when this was all over. Provided he could keep Sam alive.

Stepping back slightly, Dean swung his leg up and slammed the sole of his boot against the motel room door. The impact sent it flying back into the room, one of the hinges gave out and it hung there for a few seconds before Dean was striding into the room.

His gaze settled on Sam. The man was already sitting on the end of his bed, doubled-over in pain as coughs wracked his body. “Sam, Sam, Sam.” Dean shook his head. Reaching behind him he pulled a flask from his back pocket. He unscrewed the cap and walked toward Sam, grabbed the man’s shoulders and straightened him up.

A smirk traveled onto Dean’s face and he winked down at the coughing man. Shoving hard at the center of Sam’s chest Dean kneeled on the bed then straddled Sam’s hips. Gripping the man’s jaw hard, Dean tipped the flask up and poured the thick, foul-smelling contents into Sam’s mouth.

Sam didn’t have much of a choice but to swallow whatever it was the man was currently pouring down his throat. And really, considering he was pretty sure he was trying to cough up a lung, there wasn’t much more harm that could be done to him. Even if whatever this disgusting shit was killed him, at least the pain would be gone. Sam’s hands curled hard over the man’s thighs, chest rattling from the intensity of his following cough.

Then it seemed like the pressure was easing, most certainly the pain was, and Sam could breathe just a little easier. His heart was still racing but he sucked in deep lungfuls of air, holding each for a beat before releasing. Then his gaze fixed on the man still on his lap, whose thighs he clutched, and his brows rose. The guy was pretty tall, pretty muscular, frankly just _pretty_ , and his crystal green eyes were sparkling with something between amusement and annoyance. Sam was still attempting to catch up on the nearly dying thing so he couldn’t be expected to act eloquent in any way.

“You’re going to have to pay me back for that door.” Sam muttered, voice sounding ragged and hoarse.

“Well, at least you’re here to be bitchy about it. Just saved your ass, Princess.” Dean laughed softly at the way Sam’s features had settled into a frown even as he was still coughing. The man’s eyes were cat-like, slanted and one of those strange colors in between green and yellow. “You can breathe better?”

“I can.” Sam agreed, nodding slowly and blinking at the man, who was still sitting on his lap. He wasn’t exactly sure where to begin first with the questions so he finally settled on the one currently most pressing. “There was nothing in that shit you just gave that’s going to make my death more slow and painful was there?”

Tilting his head to the side slightly, Dean studied Sam closely. Watching him from afar hadn’t really done justice to how attractive he was. He was strong, even though he still had the feel of a wiry youth rather than seasoned hunter. “Nothing bad. Just stopped you from dyin’ that’s all. You got any beer?”

Shifting back slowly off Sam’s legs, Dean trailed his hands down the hunter’s body. _Nice_. Maybe there could be some perks to this job after all. “I really love beer.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded slowly and stared down at his body for a long moment before pushing up. This man was kind of hard to place; Sam wasn’t sure how much he even wanted to know. In his line of work, that was pretty normal. “Well seeing as you’ve already broken into my motel room, saved my life, and sat on my lap, I’d say it’s a good time to exchange names. Or you tell me yours; I think I heard you say mine.”

Sam was trying to give off an air of calm and cool, like this was completely normal. It wasn’t even close to normal and he headed for the mini-fridge to get a couple beers to cover up for his slight nerves. Nearly dying would do that to a person.

"Dean. I know who you are, Samuel _Sam_ Winchester. Twenty-five years old, born on May 2nd to John and Mary Winchester. Mother died - blah, blah, blah. You managed to finish High School with honors in all your classes even though your Dad moved you around a lot. Years of hunter training with minor injuries - except for that nasty scar on your collar bone, _just_ under your shirt. Let's see..." Dean snagged the beer Sam was holding. "Full ride to Stanford but everything kind of ate away at you, dropped out in your first year and went back to hunting. Hunting more of a personal vendetta now isn't it with your daddy dead and all. Am I close, Sammy?"

Grinning brightly, Dean yanked the top off his bottle and took a few mouthfuls. "Ooh, I fuckin' love this stuff." Pacing over to the chair by the small front window, Dean sank down and put his feet up on the table.

Something clearly close to shock was running through Sam, but he schooled his features, not wanting this _Dean_ to know even more about him. How he managed to find out all these personal details was beyond him and Sam was considering what weapon was close and how quickly he’d be able to get at it. “Great. Yet another person who has this crazy idea they know who I am. So what is it, you knew my dad? You get your rocks off by spying on me? Or are we gonna have to fight here and you just felt like saving me first because it seemed more fun?”

Sam twisted the top off his beer and drained as much as he could in one swallow. Seemed like a pretty good time for beer.

"Don't get all uptight. Sit down, drink with me. Not gonna kick your ass or anything. That would completely undermine _saving_ your ass a few minutes ago. And no, I haven't had the pleasure of meeting John Winchester although I've heard a lot about him." Dean took another swallow of beer. The liquid was cool and smooth and he could easily drink it all the time. It was even better out of the fridge.

Dean glanced around the room and made note of their surroundings. One duffel bag, boots, a jacket, nothing personal at all. When his gaze settled on the hunter again, he rolled his eyes. "Sit, you're gonna make me dizzy lookin' up at ya." He gestured to the chair opposite and kicked it out with his foot before sitting up.

“What day is it? Tuesday? Feels like a Tuesday. Shit always happens to me on Tuesday.” Sam grumbled and paced to his bag, digging inside to grab a few items before pushing up and heading to the table. It was never a good sign when a person knew more about him than he should. Especially considering how much work Sam went through to keep others from knowing him.

Sam dropped down into the chair and set the items on the table top, looking at Dean. “So, what will it be, you gonna tell me who you are or do I have to waste some of my supplies figuring it out?”

“Supplies?” Dean looked over at the items Sam had in front of him. None of them looked particularly _warm and fuzzy_. “I’m Dean. Been sent here to keep your stupid ass alive. Keep messin’ with witches and nasty assed demons. I’m a not-so-nasty-assed Demon. Your demon I suppose you could say.”

Dean slid his beer carefully onto the table and rested his forearms there. _Just_ in case Sam had any delusions about being able to actually _do_ anything with those supplies he had.

“My... demon.” Sam repeated slowly, staring at Dean for a long moment before tipping his head back in long, drawn out laugh. “You’re my demon. Right, because that’s what I really needed. A not-so-nasty-assed demon to come and rescue me. Awesome. Really, fucking, awesome.” Sam’s laughter died in his throat and his fingers tightened on the beer bottle, gaze narrowing on Dean, the Demon. Yeah, it was definitely Tuesday.

“If you think you know all about me, then you probably know I’m not stupid enough to believe there are such things as demons with good intentions.” Sam’s hand moved out across the table, curling over the flask of holy water.

“Did I or did I not just _save_ you? You want me to reverse the effects of that little elixir I just gave you?” Dean lifted his hand. “Just a flick of the wrist, well, it’s a bit more complicated than that. Honestly, I throw the hand stuff in for show.” He shifted back on his chair, widening his gaze to make sure he was going to see the slightest tell that Sam might be about to attack.

“Fuck.” Sam groaned and pressed his palm hard against his face. He’d never had a demon save him, of course, but he had a pretty good hunch it didn’t exactly mean good things. Still, he pulled the flask closer, pinching the top and slowly twisting off. No harm in being safe. “I don’t think you’d kill me, not if you’ve _supposedly_ been sent to save me.”

"You hunters. Never the trusting sort, are you? You were dying, Sammy. Nasty creatures those women and they really didn't like you meddling in their affairs." Dean locked his gaze with Sam's and raised an eyebrow. His hand darted out to curl tightly over Sam's on the flask. "We gonna test this? Put your little mind to rest?"

Sliding his palm forward on the table, Dean tilted the flask by moving Sam's hand until a few drops of the Holy water fell onto his skin. It hissed the instant it hit his flesh and the burn made him slap the hand hard against the table.

"Fuckin' Hell," he growled. Trying to breathe through the pain, he tightened his grip on Sam's hand, surely hurting the hunter's fingers. Lips twisting into a dark smile, he panted softly as the pain started to fade away to a dull, hot, burn. "There, you satisfied? Would I let _that_ happen if I didn't want to? You can feel how strong I am." As he spoke he gripped Sam's hand harder, letting his nails dig into the man's palm slightly.

Sam stared at Dean’s hand, then his own where Dean’s nails were surely breaking his skin, judging from the level of pain. His jaw clenched as he fought against the conflicting waves of default emotions. Dean was a demon; Sam _loathed_ demons. But Dean had saved his life and usually that was prerequisite for him owing a favor.

For a long moment he debated the options, what to do and how to handle Dean. Then he was up out of the chair, snagging Dean by the jacket edge and dragging him up. He spun them both, slamming Dean hard against the wall and pressing as hard as he could to keep him pinned to the wall. “So just like that I’m supposed to be _okay_ with you?” He knew it was a stupid risk, Dean could probably take him down in a heartbeat considering his weakened state, but he wasn’t going to _not_ try.

Laughing softly, more of a low rumble than anything else, Dean let his hands settle on Sam's hips. Yeah, there was definitely potential for some _fun_. "Didn't say you had to be _okay_ with me. You asked who I was and I told you. I'll be watching you and hauling your ass out of trouble whether you know about it ... or not." Pressing his shoulders back against the wall, Dean arched his back slightly so his hips would rub across Sam's. "S'up to you, I'm happy to fly under the radar." Licking his lips, Dean smiled.

Heat burned through Sam which was more irritating than anything else. He shoved Dean hard back against the wall and stepped back, eyes narrowing slightly. “Who says I need your help?” Of course the question worked against him considering Dean had _just_ saved his life. “Who says I want it?”

"You having weird dreams yet? Things that maybe come true?" Dean twisted his shoulders slightly to see how much pain that last shove had caused him. Even shored up by his demon power, human bodies were so fragile when it came down to it. "I can help - I know what you can do. The way you can feel something _building_ up inside you sometimes, almost like it needs a _release_."

Dean watched Sam’s face change slightly - oh the hunter was good. Only the slightest twitch of a muscle under his eyes let Dean know that Sam even knew what he was talking about.

Against his better judgment, Sam turned his back to Dean, pacing away from him. The details Dean knew about him were unnerving and definitely not a good sign. Someone was feeding Dean that information, which meant Sam was on someone’s radar. “Why would it matter to you?” He walked to his bed, slipping his hand under the pillow to pull the gun there free, check the rounds, old habits to soothe him.

"Doesn't really matter to me, matters to people with a high pay grade. I don't get details. What I know is that I keep you alive, train you up, and hone those fine skills you've just barely started to discover. Then I get my reward, maybe a nice raise or a permanent set up in this body. Kinda like the way this one feels." Dean's hands slid down his sides. He _did_ like the way this body moved, shame the guy was a vegetable or it would have been worth smoking out of the body _just_ to look him up.

Watching the hard line of the hunter’s back for a few moments, Dean pushed off the wall and headed over to sink down on the bed right beside Sam. “So? You interested in learnin’ what you can do with the head of yours?”

“There is absolutely nothing Demon _filth_ can teach me that I’d be interested in.” Sam spat the words, scowling over at Dean.

“Oh, you hurt me, Sammy. That’s fine though - you just keep dealing with that ticking time bomb in your head.” Standing, Dean leaned in closer, lips barely brushing Sam’s ear so he could breathe in the scent of the hunter. “Sure I could teach you some things though...” He watched until Sam’s eyes darted toward the flickering lamp then disappeared.

“What’s-” Sam turned back, eyes scanning quickly over the now empty room. Because that was really what he needed, a demon that could disappear of his own accord and was intent on the idea of worming his way into Sam’s life. There was so much wrong here he didn’t even know where to begin.

-=-=-=-

There was the flash of light, someone flipping on a switch and the bulb instantly burning out. The silence of the room was interrupted by the steady pulse of a heartbeat, growing louder as the women slowly inched forward into the room. Her voice called out a soft greeting, the word wavering in the darkness.

A low growl filled the silence then the door slammed shut, trapping the woman in darkness. Her screams echoed around the room, a flash of headlight from a car passing by the window briefly illuminating the hairy creature.

Then Sam was sitting up in bed, panting heavily as his eyes fluttered open. Every time they slipped closed he could see the glint of red eyes in the brief light and the splash of blood on fur. He had no idea what the beast was, or where it was for that matter, and part of him was tempted to shrug it off as just a dream. A bad dream.

 _You having weird dreams yet? Things that maybe come true?_

Sam groaned and flopped back on the bed, rubbing his fingers into his eyes. He could dismiss it, blame it on the burrito he’d had before bed or something. But an entire life of being trained in this world kept Sam from closing his eyes or rolling over. Instead he was rolling off the bed and standing, rubbing a hand along his boxers for a moment before shaking his head.

Wasn’t it bad enough that hunting was his life every single day? Did it really have to start seeping into his dreams?

It was worse because he knew the dreams weren’t just... dreams. They were something more; there had been two so far that had come true and Sam couldn’t ignore that. At first he’d thought maybe it was like a gift from god or something, a thing to make his life easier, to give him a heads up on an incoming problem. With the arrival of Dean the Demon however, Sam’s mind had flipped on the idea.

Now wasn’t the time for once more losing himself in thoughts of the demon and why it was hunting him down. Sam hadn’t seen him for a couple of weeks so he figured the ever consistent lack of patience belonging to evil beings had taken hold and Dean had moved on to his next … interest.

Booting up his computer, Sam went about getting dressed while the thing loaded. He tried to piece together the little details he could remember from the dream as he moved. The way the creature looked, the woman, the simple normality of it. He was pretty sure she’d been in her garage, and the creature was almost like a dog. Maybe a wolf. Werewolf? God, Sam wasn’t even sure where the moon cycle was at.

When Sam finally began searching, it didn’t take him long to figure it all out. His dreams before had always shown him something, a house address, a street name, some sort of clue. This one hadn’t because these attacks were happening _here_. This was the reason he’d come to this town in the middle of Wisconsin in the first place. A series of maulings, bodies torn to shreds. Sam had just arrived in town though and hadn’t had the chance to investigate.

Now though, apparently, he had to get a move on because the creature was getting ready to attack again. He hacked into the police files easily; small towns never had the best security, but thankfully the autopsy information was already up. Sam scanned through the information, pulling up another tab to start searching for possible creatures.

The creature was surprisingly just as easy to find. The Bray Road beast, last seen in the early 90’s. It was supposedly just a town myth and the series of murders that had happened back then were later blamed on a man named Alfred York. Clearly though, the creature was back again and more than a little hungry.

Sam read the description of the beast and his eyes widened slightly. Seven feet tall, four hundred to seven hundred pounds, stood on two legs and looked like a cross between a wolf and a bear. Shit.

Not being able to justify ignoring the dream and the woman whose life was in danger, Sam grabbed what weapons he could and headed for the door. It definitely wasn’t the smartest idea, taking on a creature three times his size on about two hours of sleep. But Sam’s job was to help others and that’s what he was going to do.

-=-=-=-

It took three hours of driving slowly with the windows down through suburban neighborhoods to find the creature. It was the screaming more than anything else that caught his attention. Sam jerked the Impala over to the side of the road and kicked the door open, grabbing his axe from the passenger seat and taking off for the house. He ran around to the garage door and kicked the door hard open, swinging the flashlight around to scan the room.

The first thing he saw was the now lifeless form of the woman, blood pooling around her body and the Bray Road beast crouched over her, apparently eating. Didn’t matter how many things Sam saw over the years, _anything_ eating human flesh was enough to make him a little queasy. He should have brought a gun, definitely. Or, he should have looked up what would kill the creature.

Definitely not Sam’s brightest moment.

Especially when the light landed on the beast and it took off, running across the garage and tackling hard into Sam’s shoulder, shoving him back outside. Sam swung down with the axe, driving it hard into the beast’s back. It lunged back, howling into the night air. Sam blinked a few times to clear his vision and then watched as the creature pulled the axe from his back and dropped it to the ground.

 _Shit_.

His only real choice was to make a dive for the axe so Sam did, rolling along the cool dew soaked grass and reaching out to grab the handle of the axe. The beast’s arm slipped easily under his chest and Sam was sent flying through the air, colliding hard into a tree a few feet away. He sucked in a sharp breath to battle the intense ache in his chest and forced himself up, thankfully still gripping the axe.

The beast fixed bloody red eyes on him, growling menacingly before jerking forward once more. A large claw, sharp nails dug into his chest and lifted him up along the tree trunk. Sam saw sparks of white, eyes fluttering as he fought against the pain. He swung once hard with the axe, landing it solidly enough into the creature’s shoulder to cause it to pull back and drop Sam on the ground. Not that it would help much, the pain radiating through him now was too much for him to fight through at this point.

" _You_ , are _disgusting_ ," Dean muttered. His arm coiled around the creature’s neck, tightening, then he slammed his other hand against its hard jaw. The crunch then snap of its spine was loud and the vibration skittered up Dean's arms. "Hate those things," he muttered. Dead weight in his arms, the creature was limp and Dean shoved at it until it fell away to the side with a loud thump.

Kneeling, Dean curled two fingers under Sam's chin and lifted the dazed eyes towards his. "Got yourself in a mess again I see. Sammy, Sammy, and you say you don't need a demon. There was blood on the hunter’s chest and Dean tore the rest of the t-shirt away, balled it up and pressed it hard against the scratches. Wincing, Dean watched Sam’s face. “You with me, kid?”

“Not- a kid.” Sam gasped softly and blinked up at the man. Demon. Okay, he couldn’t completely say he wasn’t relieved to see him. He was pretty sure he was a goner there for awhile. “Gotta get out of here,” he whispered and tried to push himself up.

They’d all made so much noise, people were going to be calling the cops and with the dead woman in the garage, there was no way to explain their presence. “M-my car.” He jerked his arm toward his car, clutching at Dean to try and pull himself up.

Frowning, Dean hauled the man up to his feet. " _You're welcome,_ ” he said dryly. Dragging Sam's arm over his shoulder he took most of the hunter's weight so they could make the journey toward the car. Sam was pretty battered; there was certainly some superficial damage. "You need a doctor or you trust _me_ to take care of you."

Sam didn’t like associating word _trust_ with Dean but a hospital wasn’t really an option. Not here at least, where these people had been dealing with the murders from the beast. They might make the wrong assumption about a stranger. “Gonna have to be you,” he muttered and leaned hard against Dean. “Doesn’t mean I trust you.” He was trying to keep himself a little under control, school back how bad his pain was. “S’it bad?”

"Well, it's deep and you're bleeding all over my shirt _and_ my new leather jacket. You'll live. Gonna hurt like a bitch though when I stitch it up. Might have some cracked ribs, but a doctor wouldn't do anything for that anyway." Dean pulled the back door open and lowered Sam slowly down onto the seat then helped him to slide back. "Keys." He held out his hand. Oh sure, he could start the car without them- but all these little _tests_ were fun. How much _did_ Sam Winchester trust him?

“Gee it’s so great having you here,” Sam muttered with as much sarcasm and snark as he could muster. He didn’t really want to bleed all over the back of his car but there wasn’t much point now. Sighing softly Sam tugged his keys from his pocket, flinching as he tossed them toward Dean. “Suppose you already know where I’m staying.” He pushed himself further back along the seat, slumping over and groaning softly.

“I absolutely do. I’m good at my job.” Dean grinned and slammed the door then climbed behind the wheel. “Nice wheels.” He twisted the ignition and the engine roared to life. Probably with a little too much lead in his foot - Dean got them clear of the area as quickly as possible. He glanced at the rear view mirror and noticed Sam’s face was pretty pale.

“You got that shirt pressed against the cuts?” Dean’s brow furrowed.

Sam pressed the shirt a little harder against his cuts and hissed, eyes closing slowly. “Yes, m’fine.” He wanted to stay completely conscious until the motel at least. If he passed out Dean might take them lord knows where and Sam was pretty sure no matter how much pain he was in, it could always be worse if the Demon really did push things. “Don’t drive so fast.” He grunted the words, forcing his eyes open to stare up at the demon.

“Cars like this are meant to go fast, Sammy.” And, Dean was actually getting a little worried about the state of the hunter. He could see sweat beading on the man’s forehead, and his skin was _too_ pale. Losing Sam would _not_ bode well for Dean’s survival.

Relief washed over him when he saw the motel and he parked quickly. Not bothering with Sam’s key, Dean simply looked toward the door and the lock opened so the door could swing into the room. It was a tasteless display, but Dean was on a tight timeline. Hauling Sam up to his feet, Dean made the man take some of his own weight. “Come on, Sammy. Let’s get you inside. You still bitchy?”

“Shut up.” Sam groaned as the demon helped him into the motel room. His legs were starting to feel like lead and he pulled away from Dean to try and get to the bed. “Just gotta lie down.” He swayed slightly, stumbling a couple of steps before collapsing onto the mattress. Apparently the beast’s claws had gone deeper than he’d thought because the amount of blood he’d lost was already making him dizzy.

"First aid ... stuff." Dean wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, but he'd figure it out. When Sam gestured vaguely toward the counter, Dean rooted around in the drawers until he found some supplies. Stopping on his way back across the small room, he opened the fridge door and pulled out a can of juice. "Juice? Sam you are the weirdest guy."

There might have been a rude noise from Sam, but Dean wasn't sure the guy was all that coherent anymore. Sitting down at Sam's hip, Dean tugged the blood soaked material out of the hunter's grasp. He winched slightly. The claw marks were ragged and dirty. Casting his eyes around the room, Dean spotted a bottle of Jack Daniels on the bedside table. "Bit of a drinking issue, Sam?" Reaching for the bottle, he held it up and raised his eyebrows.

“Dean, I will fuckin’ send you back to hell if you don’t _do_ something.” Sam growled the threat and scowled at Dean, snagging the bottle and pulling roughly at the top. He swallowed a few large gulps, wincing at the slight burn before looking back at Dean. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Maybe the hospital would have been a better risk.

“Nope, but I’m your best alternative at the moment.” Snatching the bottle back, Dean poured a generous amount of it onto the wound in front of him and pressed hard against Sam’s shoulder to keep him on the bed.

“Jesus _Christ_.” Sam groaned and slammed his hand hard into the bed. He supposed he was asking for this, it wasn’t like a demon would go out of his way to make sure Sam didn’t feel so much pain. “Can you stitch it up?” He asked a moment later, slightly breathless. Holding up his hand he took the bottle again, forcing down as much as he could. He was going to need it.

“Yeah,” Dean pressed his lips together in concentration. Even with all his demonic powers human skin was a bitch to deal with. There weren’t so many powers that would just slap a human back together.

Cleaning the wound out with a wipe, Dean tried to distract the hunter. “Where’d you hear about that thing anyway?” Laying the wipe out flat on Sam’s chest, he pulled out some dark suture thread and a needle then threaded it.

After another few swigs of alcohol, Sam was feeling pleasantly dazed enough to ignore the pain. He forced his gaze to fix on a point behind Dean’s head so the impending pain he knew was coming wouldn’t be as bad. “Had a dream.” He muttered and sighed, groaning softly. “Lot of good it did, she was dead by the time I got there.”

“I can help with that - teach ya how to focus in on it a bit. Use that brain of yours to the fullest extent. You always work by yourself?” Dean’s fingers were tight on the needle and it popped through Sam’s flesh audibly. He pulled the stitch tight and knotted it, making sure he left a tail to help cut it later.

Wincing, Sam clenched his eyes shut and lifted the bottle again, draining the rest of it. There obviously wasn’t enough alcohol at the moment. “Yeah.” He finally got out, inhaling deeply and settling back on the bed so Dean would have plenty of room to work. “Since Dad...” Sam was blaming his loose tongue on the alcohol and the pain, nothing like a need to talk or something.

“You could use some back up sometimes,” Dean murmured. He worked his way down the cut, slipping the needle through the skin and pulling it taut. Pausing once, he took the empty bottle from Sam’s hand and slid it back onto the night table. “What about some girl - you know - a little wifey to have your back?” Smiling, Dean knotted off another stitch.

“I like cock,” Sam blurted out, smirking slightly when Dean’s hands just barely paused. “So no, no _little wifey_. I do just fine on my own.” Sam had to stop saying things that could ultimately be proved wrong just by looking at the obvious facts. For example, Dean stitching him up. “Almost done?”

“Yup.” Dean caught his tongue between his teeth and tied off the seventh stitch. The widest cut was the worst - he figured the other two would heal okay on their own. “Just gonna bandage you up.” _Sammy Winchester_ liked men. That _was_ a nice development. “What kinda men you pick up?” When Sam looked up at him and frowned, Dean shrugged. “Just makin’ conversation.”

“I don’t know Dean, humans?” Sam slightly slurred the words, blinking up at Dean. He’d downed the alcohol too quickly, it was catching up to his pain laden mind and making everything move slower. “Someone pretty like you though. Just a little feminine. What’s the name of the guy whose body that is?” Sam was pretty sure he asked to remind himself that Dean didn’t belong in that body, he wasn’t _him_.

"Doesn't matter much - the guy's gone. _Long_ gone. Coma dude -he was - well, vegetative state I believe was the word used. I was forewarned that you might find that easier. Feminine?" Dean smirked and pressed a bandage to Sam's chest. The cut of muscles on Sam's pecs was nice; the guy obviously took care of himself when he wasn't hunting ridiculously strong creatures.

“Huh.” Sam muttered, wondering briefly who had forewarned Dean about anything. “Yeah. Feminine.” Sam sighed softly and tilted his head, staring up at Dean. “You’ve got freckles. And, your eyes. Are you done yet?” He really just needed to pass out now before he continued drunkenly half hitting on this _demon_.

Using surgical tape to anchor the bandages in place, Dean nodded. He left his hand on Sam's chest; he liked the feel of his muscles moving under his skin. _Alive._ "You gonna sleep?" Dean was gonna watch if that were the case. “What about my eyes?” Dean’s lips twitched into a slight smile.

“They’re _pretty_.” Sam pointed out and pushed up slightly, looking down at his now covered wound. “Thanks.” He muttered and rubbed slowly along his injured abs. Dean’s hand was still on his chest and it was warm and soothing compared to all the pain he’d been dealing with. Looking up at the demon, Sam tilted his head to the side, considering his feminine features. “Suppose Demons don’t really care if it’s girls or guys, huh?”

“I’m hurt. You can’t tell I’m a guy who likes guys? Of course we care. Well, I mean, some of us do. I prefer men when given a choice.” Dean’s fingers moved slightly on Sam’s chest and he wet his bottom lip. He might have put a bit of thought into choosing a pleasing body to inhabit.

“Are you really a man? I mean, your demon self? Does it work like that?” Sam laughed softly and shook his head. “That’s fucked up. Sorry. I’m not sure I even want to know. So did you really not know I was gay? Whoever the fuck is feeding you information didn’t pass that along?”

Dean's lips twitched into a smile and he rubbed at the end of his nose. "I might have known you were gay. Might have thought a little about that. How you feelin'? Got enough alcohol in you to kill a small pony." Reluctant to move away, Dean reached up and brushed Sam's hair back off his forehead In case Sam took it the wrong way he pressed the back of his hand to the man's forehead. It was dyer now, cool.

“M’gonna be fine.” Sam mumbled and shifted back, dropping along the mattress and scooting back until his head was on the pillow. He stared up at Dean, wetting his lips slowly. “So you’ve thought about me? That why you were so keen to get my shirt off?”

“Yeah, it had _nothing_ to do with the fact that you were losing blood at an epic rate. Look what you did to _my_ shirt.” Dean shrugged his jacket off and pulled the tacky t-shirt material away from his chest.

Dropping his gaze he let his eyes wander across the dusting of hair just above the hunter’s waistband.

“Take it off.” Sam waved toward him, reaching under his head to tuck another pillow there so he was slightly sitting up. “Got more beer in the fridge too, _besides_ the juice.” Sam officially decided he liked the sandy dusting of Dean’s hair, the way it seemed so casually spiked and styled. He figured there was nothing wrong with appreciating good looks, no matter what the inside of the man was. After all, Dean _did_ just fix him up.

"You got a shirt I can borrow?" Dean tugged the t-shirt off and wiped at the blood on his chest, it was still tacky enough to be annoying. "Beer is always good. For me, not you. You just drank. Well. Most of a bottle of Jack." Shaking his head, Dean laughed and moved over to the fridge to grab a cold bottle of beer.

“I think you should leave the shirt off,” Sam mumbled, watching Dean move. It was surprisingly easy to think of him as mostly human when he could see the muscles along his back rippling as he bent. “I can handle a beer.” he added a few moments later and slid his hand down to his crotch. No, he probably shouldn’t have a beer. He’d forgotten how turned on a lot of alcohol got him.

"Dude, you're already just about passed out from pain. Don't need one." Heading back over to the bed Dean sank down again, and took a sip of beer. "Love to meet the guy who invented this shit. Genius." Another gulp and he slid the bottle onto the night stand so he could run his hand down the side of the bandage. It was hard to miss the fact that Sam was getting a little turned on. At least it was distracting him from the pain slightly.

“How long have you been a demon?” Sam asked quietly, extending his arm until his fingers brushed along Dean’s bare chest. His skin was so warm, he didn’t know why he thought it wouldn’t be, but his fingers ran along the muscles slowly, as if assuring himself.

Dean's brows drew together. He hadn't had a chance to test drive the body much, but he _absolutely_ liked the way Sam's touch made his chest muscles tighten. Shivering slightly, Dean stared down at the hunter, watching the expression on his face soften. "Can't remember it all. Time is kind of relative in ..." Dean waved down toward the floor. _Way_ down.

“Hell?” Sam offered with a slight smirk, catching Dean’s wrist and dragging it across his chest. “You’re from there; shouldn’t you be able to say it?” Maybe there was some type of forbidden thrill that Sam was working off of; at least he could use that as his excuse for purposefully sliding Dean’s hand to his jeans. Maybe he needed to take a break from hunting and get some of the sexual tension out of his system to keep him from jumping a demon the moment he had some alcohol in his system. “Something wrong, Dean?”

"It's not exactly the Hilton down in Hell, Sammy." Dean shifted slightly when his palm hit the hard bulge in the front of the hunter's jeans. "And nothin's wrong. Just don't like talkin' about it. I'm sure there are things you don't like talkin' about." Letting his fingers move slightly, he rubbed then pressed his palm down hard.

Moaning low in his throat, Sam rocked gently up into Dean’s touch and wet his lips. “Yeah. I get it.” He didn’t press the subject for that reason alone. His eyes traveled up the long length of Dean’s arm and he considered how much he’d hate himself in the morning if he let this happen and whether the risk was worth it. “We could stop talking,” he suggested, wetting his lips slowly once more and watching Dean repeat the action. “You’ve got pretty lips too.”

"What's with the _pretty_ stuff? You're gonna give me a complex," Dean muttered. His hand was still pressing against Sam's arousal, moving _just_ enough. "You should probably take it easy there, Sammy. You lost a lot of blood." Sam’s colour was a bit better now, but still, he _had_ been through a lot.

“You’re the worst demon I’ve ever met.” Sam laughed softly, slipping his hand across Dean’s thigh. After a moment, his laughter grew a little and he shook his head. “Nah, that’s not true. But seriously, I’m basically throwing myself at you in my weakened state where you could take full advantage of me and you’re telling me to take it easy. That’s, I don’t know, weird man.”

"Maybe if you're gonna fuck me, I think you need to be at your best. It's not like I get to do that a lot." Dean's fingers tightened along the hard line in Sam's jeans. "I'm a _good_ demon, you might be surprised once we get to know each other." Dean nodded slightly and slid a little further up the bed.

“A demon who bottoms?” Sam murmured, soft smile on his lips. There was definitely a pleasant little buzz humming through his mind now and he’d almost completely blocked out the pain. “Seems like you’d want to top. Not that- I mean, I _don’t_ bottom, look at me, nothing about me says bottom. Why are you still here?” He hadn’t put any heat behind the question, just curiosity because he didn’t think Dean would stick around past healing him.

"Keepin' an eye on you, your cock is hard and my hand is on it." Dean licked his lips again and shrugged. "You've got no shirt on and you're a _hot_ guy. Might as well have some fun while I'm working. You, uh, must do that sometimes - have a little fun." Dean's fingers moved toward the button on Sam's jeans, flicking it open quickly then staring into the man's eyes.

Sam huffed a laugh and bobbed his head in a slow nod. “Oh yeah, my life is a real riot.” He murmured and shifted his hips, giving Dean more room to work. As quick as he could in his intoxicated state, Sam reached out and curled his hand around Dean’s neck, dragging him in but not quite letting their lips touch. “You could suck my cock, that sounds like a little fun.” He smirked slightly and closed his eyes, not able to focus on Dean so close to him.

A delicious sensation ran through Dean's body and his lips parted in an almost silent gasp. When he had first seen Sam he'd thought the man would have a lot of pent up energy. Obviously, he'd been right. "You're not as hurt as you were pretending to be."

Without pulling away from Sam's grasp, Dean worked his fingers down to the zipper and dragged it down slowly. He shifted his hips slightly, turning into Sam's body.

“I’m plenty hurt. Just past the point of pain,” Sam murmured and curled his fingers into the short, soft curls at the nape of Dean’s neck. He just barely lifted off the mattress, letting his lips brush along Dean’s then fell back. It was a tease more than anything else and Sam wasn’t sure yet who was being teased more. “This part of your reward for making sure I live?” Sam asked quietly, lifting his head once more and tracing the tip of his tongue along the plump curves of Dean’s lips.

Swallowing, Dean let his lashes flutter closed as he chased Sam's tongue with his lips. The hunter was good, kind of sultry and _very_ hot. "Nothin' wrong with enjoyin' my job," Dean murmured.

He figured wanting _sex_ of any kind made him a _damn_ good demon. After all, Sam was weak as a kitten - it was the perfect time to be a gentleman and back off - wait for Sam to have his wits about him before letting him make this kind of decision. Yeah, the perfect time.

Sliding down Sam's body, Dean licked his lips once more and curled his fingers over the hunter's waistband and tugged it down with his boxers. The guy was pretty large, his cock was thick, red and swollen and Dean liked the way Sam's body was flushing. Pleasure was painting a rose red all over the hunter's skin.

“God.” Sam groaned at the rush of cool air over his cock. He hadn’t even realized how hard he’d been until the heat was no longer trapped and the pressure was no longer so intense. Some part of his inner consciousness was warning about this happening, little reminders like _hello, demon_ but Sam pushed the thoughts away.

Like Dean had said, nothing wrong with enjoying the job and if Dean was going to be here anyway... well, he might as well go for what was a for sure thing. Sam could lose himself in the tangle of rationales all night, but it wouldn’t get him far. “You ever put this body to use like this?” Sam asked quietly, lifting his head to stare down at Dean. “His lips were sort of made for giving head.”

Dean felt a little sting of jealously. "They're _my_ lips now." His tongue flicked out to glide quickly over the head of Sam's cock as he crawled over Sam's body to settle by his hip. The taste of the hunter's pre-come was salty, slightly bitter and Dean licked his lips greedily.

“Yeah, definitely _your_ lips.” Sam moaned softly and rocked his hips up, trying to get Dean’s mouth on him once more. The real point was that Dean clearly knew how to use the body; every little move he made was addicting to watch, like some sort of seductive dance. Stretching down past the slight pain in his chest, Sam slid his hand through Dean’s hair, tightening and loosening steadily.

Dean let his body curve slightly, back arching as he stretched out a little. The pleasure flooding through his body was making him tremble slightly and he liked it. It had been a long time since he'd been able to have a body long enough to get physical. Digging his thumbs into Sam's bare hips, Dean dragged his tongue up the long dark vein that ran the length of the man's cock.

A deep moan shook Sam’s chest, body shuddering just barely as he adjusted to the rippling effect of pleasure. “Mm Dean,” Sam murmured, a little surprised how easy it was to moan that name. It just sort of fell off his tongue like a praise. He writhed along the mattress, finding the faint little bites of pain only added to the pleasure.

A little surprised at Sam's intense reaction, Dean cocked his head to the side and lapped gently at the heated flesh. He liked the _taste_ of Sam, salty-sweet. Parting his lips, Dean sucked gently at the head and hummed his approval when a burst of pre-come assaulted his taste buds.

Leaning back a little, he let the swollen flesh fall from his mouth and then looked up at the hunter's face, studying him, soaking it all in. His hands flattened against hot, bare flesh and he shifted slightly so he could press his own erection _hard_ against Sam's leg.

The heat and pressure against Sam’s leg had him looking down, meeting Dean’s gaze. He slowly rubbed his leg into the demon’s jeans, man’s jeans; he couldn’t decide how best to think of him without it shaking him slightly. His tongue flicked across his lips, hips slowly shifting up then back down. Dean’s tongue was so warm and slick across his sensitive skin and Sam wanted more but resisted asking for it, not wanting to beg in any way no matter how much he wanted that heat on him.

“How you doing, Sammy?” Dean smiled up at the man even though he was pretty close to the edge himself. Rocking his hips forward slowly, he bit down on his bottom lip as waves of pleasure rippled up his body. “Not gonna pass out are ya?”

“Just shut up and suck me already damnit.” Sam groaned and sank back on the bed. Leave it to Dean to tease him like this, seemed exactly like a demon thing to do. His hips arched up, hands sliding down through Dean’s hair once more and scraping over the scalp.

Moaning softly, Dean blew out a frustrated breath as he watched Sam's body arch and twist under him. Dragging his eyes down the man's chest, over his cut abs, Dean moaned louder and sank his mouth down over the stiff flesh in front of him. Relaxing his throat, he managed to suck down most of the hunter's length and let his tongue swirl teasingly around the flesh.

Sam drew in a sharp breath, hips jerking up into Dean’s mouth. He loved how the man just seemed to take it, moaned and sucked him and pressed him down like he wanted it. It was thrilling to think that Dean wanted it at all. His head rolled back into the pillow and his leg moved up, rubbing along Dean’s crotch slowly though admittedly he wanted to get his hand down the demon’s pants, just to see if he was pretty all over.

Dean couldn't help grinding his hips against Sam's leg - because _Fuck_ the guy was hot. Wounded and half drunk he was still incredibly sexy. Dean had enough sense to hope this happened again and was enough of a realist to realize it probably wouldn't. His tongue pulsed against the hard flesh as he sucked and licked his way up and down Sam's shaft.

The hunter was thrusting up into his throat and Dean just let him. It was easy; he just relaxed and swallowed down the heated flesh. The full feeling, the way Sam's body was jerking up off the bed, it was _more_ than worth Dean's watering eyes and the way he was going crazy with _want_.

Pleasure and heat curled through Sam in constant waves he couldn’t get a grip on and he knew he was already too close to the edge. Dean was just allowing him to thrust up and Sam’s hand in his hair tightened, gripping hard and holding on with each new swell of pleasure. “M’gonna-” Sam warned, eyes fluttering closed as his fingers curled to the point it had to be painful.

The almost-whimper Dean let out would be embarrassing if he thought, for a moment, that Sam actually cared what noises he was making. Digging his fingers _hard_ into Sam's hips, Dean let the man know that there was _no_ way he was going to pull off. Sucking hard, he hollowed his cheeks and swirled his tongue around Sam's cock, loving the way it made the man moan softly.

Dean could feel that Sam was going to come; the man's body tensed, muscles tightened and rippled under his hands and then his hips snapped up. Come splashed hot against the back of Dean's throat, he swallowed, tongue still lapping at the head of Sam's cock.

The force of Sam’s release pulled a rough, deep moan from low in his chest. His hips continued to rock up into Dean’s mouth as his orgasm coursed through him in waves of pleasure that made the pain completely vanish. His hand slowly slipped free from Dean’s hair, body sinking down into the mattress as his cock flipped from Dean’s mouth. “Jesus.” He mumbled softly, panting thickly.

Lapping up any remaining come from Sam's cock, Dean sighed happily. He'd really missed being in a human body. Sliding up Sam's body, Dean dragged his mouth over flesh, skirting around the bandages until he could mouth his way up the hunter's neck. “Gonna let me kiss you now?”

“After you sucked my cock? Gross dude.” Sam smirked up at Dean then grabbed him, pulling him in hard so their lips could crush together. He actually always liked this part, not that Dean needed to know that. His tongue slipped forward into Dean’s mouth to taste himself there and he discovered Dean’s lips really were made for kissing. Sam’s hand slid down between them, rubbing along Dean’s cock through his jeans and pressing in harder.

"MMmm..." Dean rocked his hips forward eagerly, not caring that his aching cock was still trapped in tight jeans. Sam's lips were hot, his mouth slick and Dean slanted his mouth slightly to give the man more room. Sucking on Sam's tongue he wasn't even sure who moaned, someone did - Dean didn't care. His hips snapped forward again and again, rutting hard against Sam's hand.

The way Dean felt sort of desperate and rocking against Sam was almost enough to make him come all over again. He liked them needy, that was for sure. Sam swallowed up Dean’s next moan and pushed through the last of his pain so he could flip Dean over onto the mattress and tug roughly at his jeans. He pulled Dean’s cock swiftly from his boxers and stroked up in one hard fast glide, mouthing along Dean’s neck and sucking hard enough to mark the skin.

Dean's entire body jolted at the rough touch of Sam's hand then he shuddered back down to the mattress. "Fuck," he hissed. It was much better than he remembered, the heat of it- the way his body moved like Sam was magnetic somehow. It was perfectly torturous to think of everything they could do together. Struggling up on to his elbows, Dean tried to catch the hunter's lips only to be pushed back down again. Groaning softly, he arched up into Sam's body, already so close to coming he could feel the ache deep in his belly.

“Mm you are a good little demon.” Sam growled against Dean’s neck then pulled back, staring into the man’s eyes. He couldn’t see it, the demon part of him, he looked just normal like anyone else but Sam knew better. It shouldn’t be doing the things to his body that it was, but Sam was too far gone on everything to get caught up in the disgust at the moment. Instead he crushed his mouth hard against Dean’s and rolled the pad of his thumb along the slit at the top, smearing pre-come into his skin.

Reaching up, Dean slid his fingers into Sam's hair. It was softer than he expected, smooth and he tangled his fingers into the long strands. "You," he muttered but all his words were drowned out by the moan that ripped out of him when Sam's hand stroked harder, faster. The wider Dean's mouth opened, the more Sam pressed forward into the kiss. Dean felt his balls draw up closer to his body as everything inside him swelled and ached for release.

Rolling his body like a wave, arching up, falling back down again, Dean's orgasm slammed through him. His entire body shuddered as he came, hot splashes of come splattered along the skin of his belly and chest. It was difficult to catch his breath.

Sam wrenched back to watch Dean’s face, just to see it morphed by pleasure. It was a good look for the man and Sam wet his lips, not all that surprised to feel his dick twitch in response. He could easily see how spending any amount of nights with Dean would be pleasing, but there wasn’t much of his brain left to devote to these kinds of thoughts. He dropped down heavily at Dean’s side, sprawling out on the mattress.

The pain was creeping back on him now, pressing in on him on all sides. “Man.” He whispered softly, blinking up at the ceiling. “That was good.”

If Dean could speak, which he couldn't, he probably would have said something smart-assed. Instead, he summoned the remaining energy in his body - _his_ body - and rolled toward the hunter. Slinging his leg over Sam's, he rested his cheek against the man's shoulder and gazed up at him. A little bleary-eyed and really dizzy he hummed softly and kissed Sam's neck.

Demon or not, sex was _damn_ good. Any kind of sex, touch, the human _ness_ of it. Dean had missed it.

“Didn’t think you’d be the snuggling type.” Sam smirked slightly, but slipped his arm around Dean, bending slightly to tug the blanket over them. “You stickin’ around?” He murmured, turning slightly to bury his nose in Dean’s hair and breathe in his scent. So strange, how _normal_ it was.

Nodding slightly, Dean muttered, "Yeah." After all, he was supposed to be keeping an eye on Sam. It didn't really matter if he was doing it from _inside_ the crappy motel room as opposed to outside. Fingers tracing the curves of muscle across Sam's chest, Dean smiled into the man's flesh. "M'stayin'."

It occurred to him that things might seem a little different to Sam in the morning. It would be the worst case of _about last night_ that Sam could ever have. Laughing softly, Dean nestled closer as he let himself feel _every_ sensation in his body.


	2. Chapter 2

Any time Sam woke up after drinking too much the night before things came back at a slow pace in the morning. It was no different when he woke this time only now there was the press of a body against his side and it took Sam a while to even open his eyes, let alone figure out who the person was. And he was just drifting back to that content, sleepy little place when he shifted and felt pain.

That was enough to bring everything back to Sam like a spark in the brain and his eyes shot open, body snapping upright. Turning much slower, Sam looked down at Dean there, wide awake and looking back up at him. _Shit_. The beast and the injury, Dean rescuing him, the alcohol and one of the best blow jobs he’d ever had. No, not good at all.

“Hi,” Sam said quietly and swallowed thickly, pushing off the edge of the bed and biting back the groan. He needed pain medicine and his ass kicked by any of the dozens of hunters who might kill him if they found out what he’d just done with a demon. “You’re still here.”

Dean kicked his way out from under the covers and slid to the bottom of the bed. Padding over to the first aid supplies from the night before, he pushed them around with one hand as he scratched at his head with the other. "Here." He picked up a bottle of pain medication and headed back over to the bed to press it into Sam's hand.

Yawning, Dean climbed back onto the bed behind Sam and pressed up against him. "Is your chest hurting?"

“Yeah.” Sam nodded, his back stiffening at the press of the man against his back. “Dean.” Sam pursed his lips, pushed up off the bed, and twisted the bottle in his grip, pulling off the top and tipping a few pills out. “You should go.”

He was stuck between guilt and irritation at himself. Dean had saved his life, put him back together, and then Dean had sucked him off. No matter how hard the hunter’s life had made him, Sam didn’t really like being an asshole. Still, this was a demon. “I shouldn’t have- just- thanks for. God damnit.” Sam slammed his hand hard down onto the table top, squeezing his eyes shut.

Sighing, Dean sat up and scratched at his chest. _This_ was exactly what he was expecting. "Is this the existential meltdown over me being a demon and _you_ liking your cock in my mouth?"

Snatching his jeans off the floor, Dean tugged them on then got up to move quickly around the motel room looking for his shirt.

“Are you telling me you’re actually hurt that I’m acting this way?” Sam snapped, looking over at Dean with narrowed eyes. “You know how I feel about you and your... whatever.” Sam slid a hand hard up through his hair and sighed. “You’re not even human.”

"Hurt? Nope." Tugging his blood encrusted t-shirt down over his head, Dean felt a muscle twitching under his jaw. _I was human once._ "You should change the dressing on that this morning and take the stitches out in a few days. Might get infected." Lifting his jacket off the chair, Dean shoved aside the strange feelings that were gnawing at him. _Cold_ little, sharp teeth of regret.

Walking toward the door, he stopped behind Sam’s back, lingering there for a few moments. His hand slid over Sam’s hip before he really thought about it. “You okay? You need anything?”

No part of Sam was really okay at the moment. Especially not the part of him that wanted to turn to Dean, push him up against the wall and just _take_ him. “I’ll be alright.” Sam nodded, trying to force his voice to be flat. He looked over his shoulder at Dean, slight frown tugging on his lips. “Thanks for, you know,” he muttered, looking away again.

Nodding, trying to shake off whatever the hell was going on in his mind Dean let his hand drop. “Hey. It’s my job. Won’t go well for me if you’re dead.” Shrugging, Dean pressed his lips together for a few moments. “Okay. See ya ‘round then.”

He paused with his hand on the door, looked back at Sam and opened his mouth to speak. Thinking better of it, he pulled the door open and headed out. It seemed like a good idea to leave _normally_. The hunter was obviously rattled - no point in pushing him over the edge.

Once the door was closed Sam sank down on his seat, curling his fingers around the bottle of pills. “Fuck.” He whispered roughly and drove his fist down hard on the table top. “Stupid. Stupid.” He scowled and shook his head, driving his hand hard up through his hair.

Sam glanced over at the empty bottle of Jack on the floor. It was a pity; he could really use a drink. Yeah, because that worked so well the night before.

-=-=-=-

There were four scars on Sam’s chest and they were really the only reminder of Dean the Demon in his life. As far as Sam knew, he’d moved on. He was pretty sure it wasn’t true, Dean was probably keeping an eye on him somehow, but no matter how many times Sam looked over his shoulder he couldn’t find the man with the pretty green eyes. Not that he hadn’t thought about him.

Far too much.

Sam was ignoring that though. He was ignoring all things that reminded him of that Demon and the whole world of things he wasn’t touching on.

By the time a couple of months had passed, Sam stopped looking over his shoulder and he stopped caring if Dean was going to turn up again or not. It didn’t matter, either way, if Dean wanted to stick to the shadows then that was better for all of them.

Sam followed hunt after hunt, a poltergeist in Nevada, some college kids raising dead bodies in Idaho, even a Jersey Devil sighting which turned up nothing, but had brought out the mythological junkie in him. Now he was on his way to Alabama to check in on some reports of supposed possessions. It was the kind that grated Sam’s nerves the most, the demon bouncing from person to person; staying only long enough to ensure the human he left behind was only a former shell of himself. Completely insane and incapable.

When Sam checked into his usual cheap motel in middle of nowhere Alabama, he took a few minutes to entertain the notion of how ironic this all was. A demon possession, here would be a case Dean could actually help him on. Then Sam could use actual proof to show just how not _right_ his kind were. And to think the demon was actually trying to offer him help for something? That was ridiculous.

Sam started off at the county Asylum, slipping into his fake FBI get up and interviewing the Doctors and nurses. He tried talking to one of the victims, the latest one, Nichole Marsh but the girl was simply staring at the wall. It hurt to see her broken expression, the dullness in her eyes; her almost lifeless body propped up to give the illusion of normality. She was only sixteen and she’d probably spend the rest of her life in this place.

After he left the Asylum, Sam was so pissed off at the demon he was nearly vibrating with the desire to send it back to hell. Sometimes with this job, he killed the monster because it was hurting others, because he had too. Other times, like now, Sam _hated_ the thing that had wrecked such a young child. No one deserved that type of life.

Lugging his laptop into a diner, Sam hooked up to the wireless internet to access the local newspaper. How could he figure out who the demon was in now? Or where the demon was hiding out? Sam needed to draw it out somehow. He was safe; he took precautions against that kind of thing, which meant someone else was going to pay for as long as it took to get the demon out.

“Hey. Neat laptop.” A boy stopped by his table, eyeing Sam’s computer with obvious envy. “You get internet here?”

Sam looked up at the kid, teenager most likely, and smiled slightly. “Yeah. Pretty good signal.” Kids were odd, not bad but just weird. A lot of them seemed to stop and say hi to Sam and he could never figure out why. Maybe it was his hair, before his dad died the man had always said he needed to get it cut. The kid was just kind of standing there still and Sam cleared his throat. “You uh, need something?”

“Could I check my email real fast?” The kid grinned and shifted his backpack on his shoulder. “My mom makes me share the computer with my brat kid brother and I was expecting an email from Ashley Summers.”

“So asking a random stranger to use their computer seems like a better alternative from say the library?” Sam smirked slightly but he already found himself switching to a new browser window, tilting the computer to the free side of the table.

“Library’s always busy. Stupid poor, tiny town.” The boy grunted and threw his backpack onto the other side of the booth, dropping down in front of the computer. “I’m Henry, if you’re wondering.”

“Sam.” He nodded at the kid and sat back in the booth, looking over toward the waitress to see if his food was coming. “Hey so, you say this is a poor town, are there a lot of closed down warehouse places around here? Abandon buildings maybe you and your friends like to hang out at?”

Henry looked up at Sam over the computer and smirked. “Aren’t you a little old to be hanging out with high schoolers?”

“Aren’t you a little too smart to talk to strangers?” Sam shot back, smirking in return at the boy. He’d definitely say the kid was about sixteen, one of those types that was full of themselves, probably needed to be taken a notch or two down.

Henry just laughed and looked back at the computer. “Yeah, East side of town there’s some. Cops go out there pretty often though so we can’t have parties. Sometimes guy’s take the girl’s out there, show them how brave we are and stuff.”

“And clearly that works for you,” Sam laughed, smiling up at the waitress as she brought over his sandwich. “You ever see anything out there?”

“Nah, it’s just dark, a little creepy.” Henry grinned up at him, tapping at the keys for a few minutes before snagging his backpack. “Thanks for letting me use your computer, Sam.”

“No problem. Have fun with the girl. You should steer clear of the buildings for a few nights, you know, weird shits been happening is all.” Sam shrugged, turning the computer back to him.

“Alright.” Henry nodded, lifting his hand in a wave before heading out of the restaurant. Sam watched him go, smiling in return when Henry taped on the window before heading down the sidewalk.

Weird how a kid could actual give him a lead. At least somewhere to start.

-=-=-=-

That night Sam was at the warehouse, his father’s journal in hand, thick rope stuffed in his back pocket. A quick sweep of the building didn’t turn anyone up, but it was a convenient place for an exorcism so Sam worked through the motions of setting up a Devil’s Trap, just in case. He definitely needed to send this demon back to hell; he only wished it was permanent.

He spent the night roaming around the warehouses, familiarizing himself with the ins and outs. At some point, out in the night air and looking up at the moon, he thought about Dean. It was brief, just a moment when he wondered if the demon was watching, observing him, but he shook his head of the thought and moved on.

There was nothing that night. Sam spent the drive home considering how he’d go about searching the following night before thankfully finding a full night - or day - of sleep tucked away in his motel room.

It wasn’t the same the second night.

Sam could feel the difference in the air the moment he got there. Something like a spark or crackle. It was like the demon’s power had grown so much he couldn’t be contained by whatever body he was occupying. Sam had left the rope at the Devil’s Trap, he had his blade, that he’d only use if he had to, and his dad’s journal once more. It was premature, but Sam could already feel the faint prickle of satisfaction. This demon was as good as gone.

Then everything flipped upside down. He came around the corner into one of the rooms and the boy was there - Henry - sitting in the middle of the room and drawing lines with a blade on the kid’s arm. “Jesus.” Sam whispered, steps drawing up short.

Henry looked up but his eyes were black and a smile curved up on his lips. “Heya, Sam. Saw you got into town, nice to see ya.”

How the hell did these demons keep finding out his name? Sam pursed his lips and took a step forward, another, slow and uncertain. “Leave the boy alone.”

“Nah,” Henry waved at him with the knife and shook his head. “It’s so easy you know? These boys, or girls, whatever, they’re already so broken. I only have to do one or two little things to get them there.”

Sam stepped back when the boy stood, twisting the knife in his grasp. Sam could see blood drip on the ground and anger swelled in his chest. “What the fuck is it with you demons? Do you all have this complex about humans?”

“Us all? Huh. You been chatting with my comrades?” Henry smirked and stepped closer, holding up the knife for Sam. “Well, c’mon, let’s do what you want to do.”

Sam didn’t hesitate, curling his fingers in Henry’s shirt collar and dragging the demon down the hallway to the large room where the Devil’s Trap was waiting. He dropped the boy in the chair and yanked off his coat, tossing it across the room before pulling off his top shirt. The demon laughed softly when Sam tore it in half and used both halves to tie around the bleeding cuts along his arm.

“Oh yeah, I definitely think that’s gonna work.” Henry’s voice held that same chipper amusement Sam had heard the day before and it was more than a little unnerving. “You think sending me back to hell is going to help? You think I won’t just get back out again?”

“I think you’ll suffer hundreds of years down there before you even get close,” Sam growled and pushed up. Backing out of the circle, he pulled the journal up to begin reading the ritual.

The words came easily to him, Sam had used them enough, and before then his dad used to make him recite them. Normal kids were playing video games; Sam was learning Latin so he could perform a proper exorcism ritual. Something was much different about this though; the demon in Henry was just smiling and watching him.

He should be fighting against this, he wasn’t even tied up. Henry was laughing softly and the words trailed off on Sam’s lips. What was he missing?

“You know, Sam, you’re kind of adorable.” Henry pushed out of the chair and began pacing the length of the circle, the occasional twitch of his body the only sign that Sam’s ritual was working in any way. “So gung ho about this whole fighting evil thing. Don’t you know how easy you could have it? I mean, if you followed the traitor’s advice.”

Sam forced the incantation to continue falling from his lips, but he was listening, his mind cataloguing what the demon was saying.

“You know, Dean? Have you met him yet? Fuckin’ little thing, thinks he’s _so_ badass, just ‘cause someone gave him information. Oh you know, there’s really no reason to rush through the ritual.”

Sam was already coming to the end of the page now, Henry had dropped back down in his chair and his body was beginning to move more violently, the demon nearly slipping free from its hold on the boy.

“I jumped off the roof, before you got here. Kid’s neck is broken, he’s not gonna live, not with the blood he’s lost too. What a sham-”

The words cut off as Sam finished the ritual, a cloud of black smoke falling from Henry’s lips. The book fell from Sam’s hand and he watched, staring in surprise and shock and his stomach rolled in disgust. This couldn’t be happening.

Henry’s body slid out of the chair and fell hard onto the floor. Sam lunged forward, falling hard down on his knees and scooping the kid up. His arms were gushing blood now and it was staining Sam’s shirt. Henry’s eyes were slowly blinking open and closing, his lips parting in a silent gasp.

“No, no.” Part of Sam had been hoping the demon had been lying, that he’d just wanted to fuck with Sam’s brain a little before he left, but the broken bone was obvious now. “Shh, Henry, sh.” Sam’s breath hitched, his hands sliding uselessly down the boy’s side. There wasn’t anything he could do.

“M-my m-mom.” Henry gasped out, his hand half moving off his chest then dropping back.

Sam stared caught somewhere between horror and despair as the boy fell lifeless in his arms. His blood ran cold, eyes staring wide down at the boy. “Jesus,” he whispered and skittered back, turning away from the body and pushing up to his feet.

He stumbled half blindly down the hall, knocking into the wall and sucking in sharp breaths to try and fight back against the sharp prick of tears. When he finally made it outside, he could feel the blood drying crisp and cold against his chest and his eyes slid along the horizon, fingers curling into tight fists at his sides.

“What the fuck?!” He yelled into the night air, spinning in a circle to peer through the darkness. “Why do I even bother? Why couldn’t you stop him?” Sam wasn’t sure who he was yelling at, God, Dean... probably Dean. Someone tangible he could fix his anger and ache on.

Sam spun in a half circle and kicked uselessly at the tire on the Impala, wanting to _damage_ something, anything to get his mind off the image of that lifeless little kid in his arms.

“I know you’re out there!” He yelled again, once more peering through the darkness. “Come on, stop hiding, come and tell me one god damn reason why I shouldn’t just give up on all this shit?”

As soon as he felt the ground solid and dusty beneath his feet, Dean took a few steps closer to Sam. He had a _bad_ feeling about being there and a bad feeling about _not_ being there. The hunter's back was toward him, hard and tense, his head thrown back, arms wide and Dean could feel the anger and hurt coming off the man in waves.

Jamming his hands into his pockets so he wouldn't even think about touching Sam, Dean took a deep breath. He had a few simple answers, but nothing that was going to make any of the night's events any easier for the hunter. "Sam."

“Oh look, he returns.” Sam spun to Dean, clenching his jaw and looking away before the Demon could notice the tears in his eyes. “He was just a little boy. Just a kid with a baby brother. You know what they’re gonna find when they find him? Cut wrists and a broken neck. What the fuck Dean? I thought you were supposed to _help_ me, why didn’t you stop it? Why did I even bother?” Sam wasn’t even sure he knew what he was saying, he just knew that he _hurt_ and it sucked.

Dean thought it probably wise _not_ to bring up that Sam had actually refused his help. "I can't stop all other Demons. Some of them are stronger than me, some weaker." He shrugged and stepped a little closer.

Sam's eyes were wild, his hair messed up and plastered to the sweat on his forehead. The blood was still dark and glistening on his shirt. Pulling a hand from his pocket, Dean rubbed at the back of his neck, nervously. He shouldn't be nervous - this should just all be part of his _assignment_.

"I can help you, Sam," he said softly. "But. You're going to have to trust me."

“Trust you,” Sam repeated in a slow whisper, stepping back from him. “So you just, don’t care? About that little boy? Is that what you are? Just like that demon in there?” Sam jerked his hand toward the building and shook his head. “What would you have me do? How would it help at all?”

Dropping his gaze to the ground between them, Dean frowned. "I didn't say that I didn't care. I can't _fucking_ help that little boy. I _can_ help you. If you work with me - I don't know - maybe you could stop something like that from happening again."

Risking a glance up, Dean saw the anger still distorting Sam's features. "I didn't know what was happening here, Sam. Not until it was too late. I can't just force another demon out of a human body." He waited to let the words sink in. "But you can. If I teach you how to harness all that power buzzing around in your head."

“That’s not-” Sam cut off, staring hard at Dean for a long moment. He didn’t know what the demon meant, sure he knew about the dreams and the vague mention he’d made to power before, but he couldn’t think of anything that could be done mentally to stop a demon.

Stepping back and dropping his hands, Sam looked slowly around the open field, back to his car then at the building. He knew he couldn’t blame Dean for this. He wanted to, but so far what he’d seen of the demon, he wasn’t like the others. He’d even chosen a coma victim, which was humane if you could associate that word with a demon. “What do you mean? Something faster than an exorcism?”

Another step closer while Sam was turned away and Dean was close enough to reach out and touch him. He didn't. "Sam you're special. It's why I was sent to help you, teach you if you were willing. There are things that you don't even know about yourself and I can help you to learn. That power, you feel it don't you? When you're around a demon like that - almost a pressure build up. It's _right_ there inside you and we just have to help you learn to let it go. And yeah. I think you could get a demon out of a person faster, without any harm coming to them. With my help."

Finally, Dean reached out and his fingers brushed the inside of Sam's wrist. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about touching that skin again.

Sam took a few minutes to really think about what Dean was saying. He couldn’t imagine how that type of power might work. What would be strong enough to pull a demon from a human without a ritual? And was it really worth the risk when a demon was offering it? But, Sam already knew Dean wasn’t like the others.

He wasn’t them. So, someone was helping him along he figured. Someone in hell had ideas about Sam’s abilities? That couldn’t be good. Finally, Sam’s eyes landed on Dean’s fingers still on his wrist and though he maybe should have pulled away, he wanted the touch too much right then to be strong enough to. “Why?” He finally asked, looking into Dean’s green eyes. “Why would a demon want me to have the power to kill other demons? It doesn’t make sense.”

The intensity of Sam's gaze made Dean's chest tighten, but he didn't look away. "Prophecies. You were given a gift when you were young, you and some other children. It manifested itself in different ways for each person. In you, it's strength. You're so powerful, Sam. I can sense it." Dean's fingers curled around Sam's wrist, his thumb rubbing softly against the man's pulse.

"Not all of us want Hell to win. Some of us just want the fighting to stop." It wasn't the _entire_ truth but Dean wasn't sure Sam would even process everything he was telling him. There was still a slightly wild look in the young hunter's eyes.

“And I’m supposed to stop the fighting huh?” Sam laughed, more out of disbelief than anything else. His eyes locked on the building again before he shook his head and twisted his hand, grabbing Dean’s and pulling him forward. “We’re getting out of here. I’ll call in a tip for-” Sam shook his head roughly and turned, heading for the car.

He stopped at the door, yanking it open and looking toward Dean. “Isn’t it your job to get me to agree to this? Doesn’t that mean you should come with?”

Nodding silently, Dean walked toward the car. He could see that Sam needed someone there and as fucked up as it might be - Dean - a _demon_ was the closest thing to a friend that Sam had in that moment. Of course, Sam would never say that out-loud. He might not even realize it himself.

Dean pulled the passenger door open and sank down onto the leather seat. Waiting until Sam was behind the wheel and the engine roared to life, he turned and spoke softly. "I don't know if it matters. But we don't have him. The kid I mean...he's not - in Hell."

“Oh.” Sam nodded slowly, fingers slowly curling around the wheel and releasing. “That’s, well. It helps.” Weirdly enough it did. He at least trusted Dean enough to not lie about that.

As they drove, Sam pulled out his cell phone and dialed the police. He offered the tip about seeing the boy but didn’t give any more details than he had to and hung up before they could ask for a name. There would be some searching into the subject but by the time they even guessed who the shirt belonged to, Sam would be long gone. It wouldn’t matter anyway, not like anyone knew him here.

“That demon knew you.” Sam said as he pulled up in front of the motel, slipping the car into park and turning to look at Dean. “He called you a traitor, didn’t seem to like you very much.”

"Well, there are a lot of ideas about how things should work and training you? Well, it isn't everyone's first choice. For obvious reasons some demons are threatened by you. You can be so much stronger - and that's enough to worry the powers that be." Dean stared out the windshield and watched as moths dashed themselves against the stark light outside the building.

“Hell wants me like this.” Sam said quietly and turned away from Dean, pulling his keys out of the ignition. “Would I even be human anymore? What would it take to get this power?” All Sam could think about was that little boy, his lifeless body. It was far too late to save him, but maybe he could get the power and not do what hell wanted. Maybe he could just, make his own rules with the ability.

“You are human, Sam. There’s not a demon walking Earth who can change that.” Dean made sure he didn’t look over at Sam. He was almost certain that Sam couldn’t read his expressions well, but it never hurt to be cautious. “Sam, you’re tired. You’re. You’re fucked up - this was horrible and painful and you should rest. I can tell you more tomorrow.”

Turning slightly, Dean watched Sam’s body; he was still tense almost as though he was ready to strike. It was a bit predatory and Dean’s blood moved a little faster at the thought of it. His hand slid along the seat between them and curled over Sam’s thigh. “Go inside and get some rest.”

“You know, I had a fuckin’ Daddy, Dean, and he didn’t do such a hot job so I’d rather not have another.” Sam snapped and turned, pushing the door open and climbing out. He couldn’t imagine trying to sleep now, not the way he felt, but he could put the signs together at least. He was just a job to Dean and why it should matter so much about the demon’s absence and his dismissive tone now, he wasn’t sure.

Stooping down, Sam peered into the car, and arched his brows at Dean. “If you don’t want to be here, I’m not keeping you. Just lock the door before you go.” He straightened up and pressed the lock down on his door before slamming it shut, heading for the motel door. And probably a few really strong drinks.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Dean pushed his door open and locked it then slammed it behind him. "Didn't say I wanted to go, you told me to leave last time. You want me here now?" He widened his stance, tilted his chin slightly.

“I told you to leave because- Jesus Dean, you know exactly why I told you to leave.” Sam pushed the motel door open and looked back at Dean, shrugging his shoulders in exasperation. “Does it matter what I want? You’ve been gone two months, didn’t ever seem to matter then.”

“And I _fucking_ showed up tonight the moment you told me to. Listen, I know you’re hurting Sam, but I don’t know what you want. I stayed away because you said you didn’t want to see me. I was never far away - I just - I kept myself busy.” He took a few steps closer to the door and when Sam didn’t move away, he huffed and pushed past him into the room.

Before Dean could get too far, Sam’s arm snapped out. He slammed the door shut in one swift push and shoved Dean hard against it, pinning him there and crowding into his space. Even if the Demon might be a little stronger, Sam still had the advantage of size on him and he used it to practically loom over Dean, nose barely grazing his cheek bone. “Did you want to stay away?” He asked in a soft whisper, one hand settling on Dean’s shoulder, the other over his hip.

Just like that - Dean's heart was thundering in his body. It was everywhere - that fucking hearbeat, he could feel it just under his skin, hear it in the shushing of blood in his ears. Sucking in a breath of air, he shook his head and let his lips graze Sam's jaw. "Wanted to be here," he murmured.

“And by not coming...” Sam turned his lips into Dean’s, letting them brush and pass as he spoke softly. “You were proving how I can trust you.” It wasn’t a question, Sam was almost certain of the words because that was what most of this was about. He needed to trust Dean to get whatever power he might have for him.

Sam pushed his leg between Dean’s and pressed up gently, slipping his hand under Dean’s shirt. “Just like why you’re not fighting back now?” He asked quietly, still against Dean’s lips as his fingers smoothed over warm skin.

Twisting slightly as his body reacted to Sam's touch, Dean panted softly. Sam's breath was warm and moist on his lips and he had to close his eyes, fingers reaching blindly to curl over Sam's belt. "Not fighting 'cause I want it," he whispered. It was the truth. He'd thought about Sam touching him, fucking him, the way his mouth fit perfectly over his own.

Shuddering, Dean felt his knees buckle. He moaned when his already swelling cock pressed against Sam's muscular thigh. "Sam," he said weakly.

“You gonna beg for me, Dean?” Sam laughed softly, half moaning when Dean’s hips rocked into his body. He could feel how much Dean wanted him, the heat was seeping through his jeans and Sam felt a little dizzy with it this time. There wasn’t anything he could blame it on now, he wasn’t drunk or in some immeasurable amount of pain. No, this was simply his body responding and _wanting_ Dean.

Sam pulled back enough to tug off his under shirt and threw it at the trashcan, needing to get the blood stained fabric off him. His hands slid back to Dean’s body, shoving under his jacket to push it off, fingers sliding with purpose along his muscled arms.

Dean let his jacket fall to the floor and slammed his hands back against the door. Everything in him resisted being the one to ask, _want_ , beg... because _fuck_ he was a demon not some idiotic guy who needed Sam. As he groaned deeply his nails clawed at the door behind him and even as he tried to hold back, his body arched off the door again, sending him closer to Sam.

“I know you want to beg for it.” Sam smirked against Dean’s jaw, kissing his way up along his skin. “What if I want to hear it?”

He pulled away from Dean and hooked fingers into Dean’s belt loop, tugging him away from the door and pushing him toward the bed. His hands slipped up under Dean’s t-shirt, pulling the material up over his head and tossing it to the side.

The back of Dean’s legs bumped into the bed and Sam dipped down, catching his lips in a hard, rough kiss. Dean’s skin was nearly burning beneath his finger tips, Sam couldn’t get enough of touching him. It was a little all-consuming; giving in to what he’d wanted for months now, but never admitted to himself.

Dean's breathing was harsh, fast, his mouth moving under Sam's. His hands moved across the hunter's broad back and he moaned when the muscles moved under his skin. Trembling as the limits of his control were strained and tested, Dean slid his hands down to Sam's ass and dug them in. Pulling at the denim he let out a frustrated sound, entirely too close to a whine and ran his hands around to fumble with the button. “Sam,” he moaned softly.

Hands sliding around to the front of Dean’s jeans, Sam pulled roughly at the denim, slipping the button free and tugging down the zipper. In one swift movement he shoved hard at the fabric and pushed Dean down onto the bed, tugging the jeans the rest of the way off. As Dean tumbled down on the blankets Sam’s mind sparked, he could be rough with Dean, he could use strength and power and Dean would enjoy it.

A smirk was still playing slightly on his lips as he hooked fingers under his jeans, pushing them down. “I really am going to get you to beg you know.” Sam’s smirk morphed to a smile; oddly shy in light of their situation. He pushed his jeans down and crawled onto the bed, gripping Dean’s ankle and tugging him so he flattened out on the mattress. He kept his hand on Dean’s calf as he moved up his body, sliding along his skin and dipping down to kiss and suck bites along Dean’s body.

Dean's hands clawed at the mattress for a few moments then he reached blindly for Sam's hair. The long strands were so easy to grip tightly and he was only vaguely aware of Sam's low rumble of a growl when he pulled hard. "Not gonna. Not gonna beg," Dean hissed.

But every damn spot that Sam's lips touched started a little fire that trailed along his body. He could feel the press of Sam's flesh against his; the heat between them and he moaned as his head pushed back against the bed beneath him.

“I think you will.” Sam murmured and parted his lips, running his hands along Dean’s hipbones and curving along the flesh. He wanted to drive Dean crazy like that and he knew he was going to, given enough time. His fingers curled along Dean’s thighs, spreading his legs wider so he could slip between.

In one quick move he slid up the full length of Dean’s body, pinning him there to the bed and crushing their lips hard together. His hand slid out along the nightstand, tugging at the drawer to grab the bottle of lube there. When he pulled back from the kiss, his eyes fixed on Dean’s and it seemed like there was just the slightest hint of darkness to them, like the pleasuring was pulling it out of him. “I think you’re gonna be even prettier when you beg.”

Dean swallowed thicky as his gaze locked with Sam's. His body inched closer to being so turned on he couldn't breathe and Dean's control slipped, the dark in him forced its way forward. "Sam, I want this," he said softly.

Hooking a leg over the hunter's, he rocked his hips up slowly, teasing, just the _hint_ of what might come later. Just that subtle pressure against his cock and Dean moaned again, arched up into the hard body pressing him down, _pinning_ him there. Sam was strong and just knowing that, feeling that strength in the hunter's body sent all kinds of pleasure swirling through him.

Something in Sam’s chest twisted oddly for a moment before he dipped forward, capturing Dean’s lips against his own once more. His tongue slipped forward, sweeping around Dean’s mouth in slow and tantalizing glides. It was enough, he could feel the building pressure and building _want_ and he thought he might end up being the one begging if he wasn’t careful.

In truth, Dean’s body felt _so_ good. He couldn’t explain it, why the heat of him, the way he moved, seemed so much sharper and more intense than anyone else Sam could have picked up. Maybe because Dean knew him and that so rarely happened. He moaned into the kiss, rocking his body down against Dean’s to meet each of his arches up. Sam’s hand slid along Dean’s side, tucking under his body and squeezing hard at his ass.

 _Want_ flared in Dean, his chest tightening, breath hard to pull into his lungs. Sam kissed like he was putting everything into it, made Dean feel like he was important and like somehow he just might matter. It wasn't often that he mattered at all. Circling his arms around Sam's neck, he pulled the man closer, locking their bodies together and rocking hard against him.

Gasping for air he pulled back from the kiss. "Sam," he whispered, "do something." Canting his hips, Dean pressed his ass down into Sam's hands, loving the way they gripped so tightly. Yanking hard on Sam's hair, he mouthed his way down the hunter's neck and sank his teeth into the tender flesh.

A low moan fell from Sam’s lips and his eyes closed for a long moment, head tilting away to give Dean’s lips more room on his neck. He liked the slight sting of the bite, the way it seemed to heighten his pleasure and make his body jerk and twist forward. Then he pulled back, sliding to Dean’s side and running the heel of his palm slowly back down Dean’s abs.

He watched as his fingers moved along Dean’s cock, ghosting over the heated skin and just barely touching. Dean’s body moved up into the touch and Sam tilted his head down, mouthing along Dean’s collar bone. He moved the bottle in his hands, slicking his fingers slowly and sliding his hand between Dean’s legs. “I like the way you say my name,” Sam murmured, almost a casual observation as his finger rubbed slow circles along Dean’s entrance.

Sam's voice was thick and low and it went straight to Dean's cock. Hard, aching and throbbing between their bodies, his flesh pulsed with pleasure at each word. "Sam, c'mon."

Dean rocked down into the touch, Sam's finger was _right_ there, pressing slick and firm against his entrance and Dean was going insane. Shudder after shudder of pleasure ran down his body. Lurching up off the bed, Dean's hands slid down the hunter's back, nails dragging hard along the flesh. "Sam, fuck-" Dean sucked in a breath; power swelled within him. Slamming his eyes shut over the dark that he knew was there, Dean moaned and turned away.

Pressing his finger forward in one swift movement, Sam rolled his body up against Dean’s, seeking out any sort of friction. He just wanted to be _in_ Dean now and the idea of waiting was almost torturous. Sam hardly wasted any time before adding a second finger, stretching Dean’s tight muscles and spreading him further apart.

“It’s not like I don’t know who you are.” Sam murmured against Dean’s ear, running the bridge of his nose down along Dean’s jaw. “I could see it before, the way your eyes were getting darker.” Sam couldn’t say exactly how he felt about it, it was odd and he’d only just caught a flash of the all black in Dean’s eyes but there was something else about it too. Power? A connection? He couldn’t say, just that it didn’t bother him as much as it should.

Shivering with _want_ , Dean twisted underneath Sam's weight. The breath ghosting over his ear was making his blood run thick in his veins. "Sam..." Dean turned his head, blinking his eyes open and looking deep into Sam's eyes. He knew his eyes were black, shining probably in the half light coming through the window. Maybe he wanted Sam to see him as he really was, know that the man acknowledged it on some level.

Straining forward he brushed his lips against the hunter's and his body jerked up as his tight muscles clenched around Sam's fingers. "Sam, please," he begged. _Yeah_ , he begged, but only a little, because if the hunter turned him away now he wasn't sure what he would do. "Fuck me."

“Jesus.” Sam sucked in a sharp breath and shoved a third finger roughly up in Dean. It didn’t even seem to phase him, just caused the man to moan and rock down into the motion. His lips moved against Dean’s then pulled back, fingers twisting and sliding in deeper, pulling away. “Told ya you’d beg.” He huffed softly, half laughing before he pulled his fingers away all together.

“Gonna fuck you.” He moaned the words and slid between Dean’s legs, sitting back long enough to rub lube fast and slick over his aching cock. Those eyes were fixed on him, dark and burning it seemed and Sam swallowed thickly, not sure about the way his gut was twisting. Then he stopped thinking about it, gathering Dean’s legs and bending the body near in half so he could slam hard forward, deep within Dean with one swift thrust.

Dean cried out, low and deep, sucking air in even as the thrust into his body shoved it out. It hurt, _fuck_ it hurt, but Dean's body responded immediately. The burn of desire crackled along every inch of his skin; he could feel the sweat beading on his brow, down along his chest. Sam's weight was crushing and Dean loved it, his arms slid across Sam's sweat slick shoulders and cinched tight. "Fuck, yes," he breathed.

A shudder shook Sam’s shoulders, Dean’s words far too much not to make his mind spin. His entire body slid back to pull free and slam just as hard forward. He wanted to _take_ Dean, fuck him into oblivion and even the idea of taking it slow seemed impossible. Almost instantly his shaft was moving out again, hips drawing back and then slamming hard forward.

“Dean,” he moaned softly. He pressed his weight down onto the demon to keep him on the mattress and thrust harder, faster, deeper.

Dean bit down hard on his bottom lip and the coppery tang of blood burst across his tongue. Snapping his hips up as far as he was able, he tried desperately to meet Sam's thrusts. The hunter was stronger than he thought, slamming into him so hard he could feel his bones and muscles straining and aching. The body would hurt later but Dean couldn’t find the energy in him to care.

The darkness gnawed away deep inside of him, sharp teeth spiking pain all the way down his spine. There was such power in Sam; it radiated out of him, slithered across Dean's skin and teased at him.

"Sam," he whispered when he finally had enough air in his lungs. Nearly wrenching his spine out of his body, Dean curled up to reach Sam's lips and pushed his tongue over the bleeding wound on his lip straight into the wet heat of the hunter's mouth.

The first taste of blood exploded inside Sam’s mouth and he pulled back from the kiss, thrusts stilling as he stared down at Dean. It felt like some sort of spark had lit inside his veins, Sam didn’t know what it was or what it meant, but he suddenly wanted more like he’d never wanted anything else before.

His body pressed hard back against Dean’s as his hips began to thrust up into Dean once more. Sam coaxed Dean’s tongue forward and sucked along it, drawing in the taste of blood, swallowing it down and moaning. His tongue pressed forward to Dean’s mouth, sliding along the cut, working along the split flesh to draw up more of that tingling heat. His moans melted into Dean’s, hands digging hard into Dean’s muscles, bodies slamming together rough enough to have the headboard slamming against the wall. And still Sam couldn’t get enough.

Barely able to breathe, Dean clawed at Sam's back then slid his hands down the man's side to grip his ass. He pulled hard, sending Sam the unquestionable message that he wanted more; he wanted the man to wreck him. Thrusting his hips up, he met each hard slam of the hunter's body. Each time Sam's cock split him open, Dean's tongue slid forward to take with it his _blood_.

He could feel the power of it tingling between them, his vision was blurring - it had been so long since he'd felt so out-of-control. Trapped under Sam's body, Dean writhed and twisted. Each movement he made seemed to send Sam closer to his own _line_.

With a low groan Dean managed to wrap his legs around Sam's and he felt the next thrust to his core. White exploded across his vision and he pulled back from the kiss to suck in air like he was drowning. “M-more,” he hissed.

Their hips were coming together so hard Sam was absolutely certain he would have bruises tomorrow, Dean too for that matter. He didn’t care though. His hand slid between their bodies and curled tight around Dean’s cock, stroking in quick sharp tugs that matched the hard thrusts of his hips forward.

“Come for me,” Sam gasped, blinking blurry eyed down at Dean as he slammed impossibly harder back in. There wasn’t an inch of color to Dean’s eyes, just darkness contrasted by the flush of pleasure on his face and his body jerked and twisted, like Sam might be hitting his prostate with each thrust. He aimed for the same area and drove hard forward, wanting to send Dean over the edge and knowing his own was only moments away.

The words were like little pin pricks of pleasure and Dean's body reacted on its own. His hips jolted and he held his breath, his vision left him for a few moments and he arched hard against Sam's body. The pulse of his orgasm was overwhelming, pressing and squeezing everything inside Dean until he thought he might actually be pushed right out of the body.

Clinging to Sam, he thought he heard himself cry out the hunter's name as his come spread hot and wet between their bodies. Then he was only aware of sinking down into the dark well of pleasure as it rippled around him.

Watching Dean fall apart was far hotter than Sam had thought it would be. He could nearly feel the pleasure in the air, the power crackling along their skin. His own orgasm pulled through him hard and blinding. Sam sucked in a long breath and held it, only releasing with the slow exhale as his hips gently worked through each pulse of release.

“God, Dean,” Sam grunted and collapsed on top of the man, too worked up to even pull himself free. He wanted to be buried in Dean, wanted to stay that way as long as he could. His nose burrowed into Dean’s neck, mouth panting open against the skin as he sucked in greedy breaths.

Dean could hear Sam; feel the weight of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest. The strangest feeling of tenderness welled in Dean - pushing back the darkness. Blinking his eyes open slowly, he turned into Sam’s hair and inhaled. Humming his agreement softly, he just let himself bask there in the aftermath of his orgasm.

Sam had no idea how long had passed before he finally pulled free, dropping onto the bed beside Dean. His body was cooler now, breath evened out, and he tucked his arm under the pillow so he could turn and look at Dean. “Why did it feel like that?” He asked in a soft whisper, still feeling the slight tingling of pleasure and the sparks that had seemed to come from Dean’s blood.

“I’m _good_ ,” Dean mumbled. He sucked on his bottom lip, crushing down the guilt as he tasted blood faintly.

“Right.” Sam rolled his eyes but smiled softly, shifting around until he could grab Dean’s shirt from the floor and fling it over his chest. He caught Dean’s gaze for a moment before wiping at the cooling come on the demon’s skin and tossing the shirt away. “You stayin’?” He half mumbled the question, pressing his lips against Dean’s shoulder.

"Yeah, is that okay?" Dean shifted onto his side and studied Sam's profile. There was something really gorgeous about the man's face, not the traditional kind of rugged look of a _handsome_ man. Shaking his head, Dean smiled slightly. "I want to stay."

“Yeah, stay.” Sam nodded and met Dean’s gaze, smiling back at him. “I have a lot of questions for you anyway. And well, I still... I want to know more about stopping them. You’ll help me with that?” Sam reached out and slid his hand down Dean’s side, curving along his hip and rubbing over creamy skin. “Plus, I wouldn’t mind a round or two more of that.” His eyes snapped back up to Dean’s, smile unsure. After all, they both knew how he’d reacted last time.

"Yeah, nothin' wrong with enjoyin' your job, right?" Dean leaned a little closer and nudged at Sam's forehead until the man turned into his kiss. _Nothing_ wrong with enjoying this, even if it went against everything that Dean had ever believed. Sighing softly, he tilted his head and pulled back. "But I'm still not a cuddler," he murmured.

Rolling forward, Dean slung an arm and a leg across Sam's body and moved as close as he could. "Screw it," he muttered. Tangling his fingers in Sam's hair, he smiled against the man's chest.

“You’re _so_ a cuddler.” Sam muttered through a soft and sleepy laugh, pressing up against Dean and closing his eyes. He was actually a little relieved to think that Dean would be there in the morning. There were too many occasions when he woke up alone, so there was nothing wrong with enjoying that either. “Night Dean,” Sam whispered, pressing his lips to Dean’s hair and breathing in. Still smelled so human.


	3. Chapter 3

The last dream Sam remembered before he woke up was about the boy, Henry. It was full of blood and twisting bodies and Sam woke up panting softly, eyes snapping open. They instantly closed again when sunlight burned across his vision and he groaned, rolling into the heat at his side. Then he remembered Dean, the source of the heat, and the softest feel of a hand soothing back through his hair.

“Wish the dreams wouldn’t come after,” Sam mumbled against Dean’s shoulder, shifting closer to press as much into the heat as he could. “Not gonna help me at all if it’s already happened.” His arm slid around Dean’s slim waist, drawing him in and holding him there.

"S'like an echo or somethin', you know? It's 'cause you don't know how to listen to them properly." Tightening his fingers in Sam's hair, Dean rubbed his nose into the softness. He liked the way it smelled, clean and a little earthy, _like Sam._ Squinting slightly Dean looked up at the sun. “What the _hell_ time is it?”

“Not sure I want to know.” Sam laughed softly and slid his leg across Dean’s, pinning him down against the mattress. “Do you sleep?” He wondered a lot about Dean, how it worked, and who he was _before_. But last time he’d asked he hadn’t gotten much of an answer and he wasn’t so sure if it was okay to ask questions about it.

"Yeah, I can sleep. Man.” Dean rolled his eyes and gazed down at Sam. “Does it bother you? Me... like last night,” he gestured at his eyes then looked down at Sam’s lips.

“It’s... unusual.” Sam said with a soft smile and half shrugged. “But like I said, I know who you are. What you are. Whatever.” He leaned forward to gently kiss Dean then fell back, staring down at him. “Does it bother you?”

“That I’m a Demon? Or that you’re a hunter?” Dean smirked and let his hand slide out of Sam’s hair and settled on the back of his neck.

“Either, both?” Sam shrugged and settled onto his side, once more drawing Dean in close to hold him against his body. “It shouldn’t bother you that I’m a hunter, but seeing as you are a Demon, I suppose I can see that.”

"Not much bothers me," Dean muttered. "Demon. Remember?" Scratching at the back of his head for a moment he dropped his hand to Sam's chest and traced the lines of it with his finger.

"Sam, about the blood..." Dean winched and buried his face in Sam's neck. He wasn't sure why he was so hesitant to tell Sam the things he'd promised. It wasn't like the knowledge was something Sam didn't want; the hunter wanted to know how to improve, make himself stronger. Sam wanted to learn to use his powers - so giving him the knowledge was just helping with that.

“What about the blood?” Sam asked after awhile when Dean didn’t continue. He rolled slightly again to meet Dean’s eyes, frowning. “There’s- nothing bad is going to happen to me because I tasted some of it right?” He forced a smile on his face to lighten the question but now he was worried, the question hadn’t even occurred to him before.

"No... no. Nothing like that. It's part of the- process. What makes you different? Sam - when you were a baby, when your Mother was killed, the Demon there gave you something. He started all this, Azazel." Dean curled his fingers around Sam's neck tighter, hoping that the hunter would listen to him long enough for him to get the entire story out.

“What?” Sam shifted back, lips pursing slightly as he tried to process what Dean was saying. “You’re connected to him? He’s- this is his doing? The Demon that killed my mom?” He pushed back further, eyes narrowing. He should have known this was a really bad thing.

“No, Sam. It’s not like that.” _Not entirely._ “Sam, give me a chance to explain, okay?” Dean held up his hand. He swallowed, watching Sam carefully. “Just a few minutes okay?” He wanted confirmation that Sam wasn’t going to fly off the handle and shoot him in the head or something. Finding his _current_ body had been difficult enough.

Inhaling shakily, Sam forced himself to slowly nod and dropped back onto his side, facing Dean and waving a hand toward him. “Explain away.” He bit down on his lip to keep from saying anything else. Sam reminded himself that Dean had saved him, twice, patched him up, and last night... well Demon or not, there had certainly been a lot to that experience.

“Yes, it was him when you were a baby. Or someone close to him- I don’t know. There’s a lot of information that I don’t get, Sam. Anyway. He gave you blood. Just a few drops of Demon blood - it was a test to see if you could take it. And you could, Sam. Most of the babies died. He tried more...” Dean’s voice trailed off; after all, even someone as hardened to violence as Sam would have trouble with killing innocent children. _Obviously_.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sam stared at Dean with wide eyes, unable to really process what Dean was telling him. “He gave me blood, just to see if I could take it, though some babies _died_? He killed my mom.” Sam didn’t even want to consider the prospect of what Dean was offering now being associated with what that other Demon had done.

“We don’t all agree with what he’s doing … what he’s done. It’s - you Sam, you’re so special. There are prophecies about you - that you’ll kill the Demon who starts the process to bring Lucifer back. _You_. Sam. No one else. Some of us - _I_ think that you need to be stronger - you _have_ to stop what’s happening.”

Dean ran a hand over his hair. “My blood, _Demon_ blood will make you stronger. That was what you felt. That’s the short version.” Biting down on his bottom lip, Dean breathed slowly and stared at Sam’s hands. He liked the man’s hands.

“Demon blood,” Sam repeated slowly and lifted his gaze to stare at the motel ceiling. He lost himself in thought for awhile, trying to make sense of what Dean was saying. Certainly he had felt the power, the way his skin had prickled with awareness and sparks. It had been... good. Intense. “So, if I... should I agree to this, and start drinking your blood, I would be able to stop Demons? Like, send them back to hell or permanently stop them?”

“That’s part of it, I’d have to teach you more - teach you how to control it. I have a feeling it’s similar to what we do - _Demons_.” Dean hated using the word; it was like a reminder of what he was, how he was one of the things that Sam hunted. Dragging his thumb along his bottom lip he kept his gaze averted. “What I think - is that you’d be able to pull Demons out of the bodies they’re in, the people will be fine.”

“The people will be fine,” Sam repeated once more, smiling weakly at Dean because of his seeming inability to get past that. “So, no more... deaths.” His mind flashed to the boy once more but Sam shook his head, forcing the thought away. “And you, would you stay with me? Train me and...” Sam pursed his lips, oddly tempted to laugh at the idea his mind was supplying. “You’d hunt with me?”

Dean hadn't really thought about that part of it. But then there were lots of feelings whirling around inside of him that he wasn't quite prepared for. "I could, if you wanted that. I can definitely help you to learn more - can help with the- well, if you decide it's something you want to do I could find blood for you. Or I mean..." Finally looking up at Sam, Dean blinked a few times and blew out a breath.

“I thought I would be drinking your blood.” Sam frowned slightly and tilted his head, staring down at Dean. The Demon was a little confusing, like he was uncertain about the way he was feeling or the things he was saying. Sam had the feeling Dean was most certainly telling the truth when he said they hadn’t given him much information to go on. “Would it be your blood? Because I’m not sure I want to drink any other Demon’s blood.”

"I can do that. Yeah. I just wasn't sure if you would want that. I mean-" Dean shrugged. He had _loved_ the feeling between them, the way Sam's tongue had found his blood - the _power_ of it. _Fuck_ , it was probably the hottest thing he'd ever experienced. "Thing is - it feels, I mean, it's not like I hated it. So - I... yeah. I can do that." Frustrated, Dean rolled away and sat up. "Whatever you need."

A slight smile played across Sam’s lips and he pushed him, following Dean and pressing in against his back. Sam slid his arms around Dean’s middle and pulled him back against his chest, smirking slightly. Yeah, there was definitely something ironic about sitting like this. “So... does that make you my pretty wife who’s going to help me with all my hunting? Keep me from drinking too much or getting my ass kicked?” He turned his head, pressing his lips to Dean’s neck.

"Saved your ass more than once," Dean muttered. "And I'm not pretty." But. His head was tilting away from Sam to give him plenty of room in case he wanted to put his mouth anywhere else on his neck. The hunter was kind of like a drug. Scary addictive and _strong_. "Don't care if you drink either," Dean grumbled. He was annoyed he couldn't come up with much more.

“I think you want me to want you around.” Sam murmured against Dean’s neck, parting his lips to suck slow, heated kisses along his skin. Sam pressed forward to capture Dean’s earlobe, dragging it out between his teeth. His hands slid down from Dean’s waist now, curving over his thighs and rubbing a little harder than needed. Just enough to feel the slight sting of pain. “I think you want me.”

Dean's head fell back onto Sam's shoulder and he turned slightly. The stubble on Sam's cheek rasped quietly against his and Dean tried to keep the frown on his face, fighting off the smile that was there. “Don’t want you,” he muttered.

“Clearly not.” Sam chuckled softly and slid one hand to the side, tracing a finger up the underside of Dean’s already hardening cock. “I can see how very uninterested in me you are.” Sam dropped his lips to Dean’s shoulder, teeth running just barely over his skin. “Just a job to you huh?”

Dean nodded even as his fingers threaded through Sam's. He curled their hands around his shaft and moved it slowly, _too_ slowly. "Sam, don't you. Don't you have hunting to do?" His body was already warming, hips moving forward slightly.

“You’re bad for a guy’s ego you know.” Sam muttered and released his hold on Dean, rolling back away from him and off the other edge of the bed. The moment he’d moved away he felt stupid for acting that way but he wasn’t the type to take things back. “Guess I should shower and hit the road before they start really looking into Henry’s death, don’t want to get tied to it.” Sam turned away from Dean, running a hand up through his hair in slight agitation.

"Whoa, wait, what just happened?" Dean turned to look at Sam. "I was. I mean... I thought-" he cleared his throat and reached out to trail his fingers down Sam's back. “Was just teasin’.”

“But you’re right. Right?” Sam tilted his head down and looked at Dean, pursing his lips slightly. “I’m just the perk of the job. Your job. And, well, you explained everything. So I guess we should just get on with your work. Then you can go do whatever it is you do when you’re done. You get some sort of reward for getting me to drink you blood?” Sam had to look away from Dean because it was bad enough he couldn’t get himself to stop talking. He wasn’t even sure why he was saying what he was.

"What you want a fuckin' engagement ring?" Dean was getting pissed off. He was hard and had Sam's hand on him one moment and then he was getting a lecture. Having his _job_ thrown in his face was the last thing he needed. “There’s no reward except I won’t get fucking tortured, cut up and beaten. Might not get sentenced to another hundred years downstairs.” Clambering off the bed Dean started hunting around for his clothes. His jeans were under the edge of the bed and he tugged them out roughly.

“Stop, come on.” Sam sighed and reached out for Dean, grabbing his arm. “I’m shit at this. You have to get that. I have two defaults with people, saving their lives or hooking up and sending them on their way. It’s-” Sam groaned and tugged Dean into him, pulling harder when the Demon resisted. “Dean, don’t make me apologize for being an asshole. I’m not making you apologize or deny anything.”

“What do I have to apologize for?” Dean struggled slightly. He wouldn’t even admit to himself that he wasn’t struggling nearly hard enough to get out of Sam’s grip.

“Because you haven’t been an asshole at all to me.” Sam muttered and pulled at Dean again. “I don’t like feeling like your job. So yeah, it’s stupid and maybe too girly for your tastes but a little vocal reassurance that _this_ isn’t because of your job might be helpful.” Sam slid his free hand purposefully down Dean’s body, gripping his ass and squeezing hard.

"This?" Dean felt the fight go out of him all together. "The _you and me_ this? No. Sam. It's not because of my job. My job is to make sure you stay safe. To train you if you agree. The rest? That's just me." Shrugging a shoulder, Dean looked down at the tattoo on the hunter's chest. “That what you wanna know? I let you fuck me ‘cause I _wanted_ it?”

“Nothing wrong with wanting to be wanted,” Sam said quietly and gripped Dean’s chin, tilting his head up and leaning down so their lips could brush together. “Don’t you ever want to be wanted?” He whispered against Dean’s lips and slid his arm around Dean’s waist. This was certainly much better than fighting.

"Yeah, but people don't... Demons don't get to be-" Dean bit off his words. "Yes, I want to be wanted. It’s been a long time, a _very_ long time." Standing there, pressed up against Sam’s body he could believe anything - even convince himself that possibly Sam _did_ want a part of this.

“You think Demons don’t get to be wanted?” Sam asked in the same quiet voice. He stepped back and pulled Dean with him, sliding the Demon’s hand down and curling it around his half hard cock. It twitched under Dean’s touch and Sam smirked slightly. “I’d say that’s me wanting you. What do you think?”

"Yeah. Well. I'm pretty." Dean smiled slightly and tightened his fingers. He liked the way his touch made Sam so hard; made his body react so quickly. His head fell forward and he dragged his teeth along Sam's collar bone. "Got time before you... hunt?"

“Before we do? Yeah.” Sam let his head roll back for a moment, enjoying the heat from Dean’s lips on his skin before his hands gripped Dean’s sides, turning him and pushing him back down on the bed. “Got something in mind?”

"You wanna. Try?" Dean licked his lips and felt a flush creeping up his body. Okay. So - he liked the way it felt. The very idea of Sam drinking blood from him was making him kind of dizzy. Crawling back to the center of the bed he stared up at Sam. "You got a knife?"

Sam stared at Dean for a long moment, considering what was being offered before slowly nodding and sliding off the edge of the bed. There was the slightest shake to his hand but he thought it was more the prospect of all the _wrongs_ he was sure he was doing. His dad would probably flip if he were alive now; he’d never even give Sam the chance to explain that he was doing this to help people.

Grabbing a clean knife from his bag, Sam turned and headed back to Dean, sliding onto the edge of the bed. “Where?” He waved the knife slightly back and forth, unsure where to cut to best... drink blood. God.

Dean felt his eyes darken and couldn't help looking away. "Wherever you want," he whispered. Climbing up onto his knees he reached out for Sam, hand trembling slightlly.

Sam wasn’t sure how Dean’s body would heal, he knew Demon’s didn’t feel things the same way humans did but surely the body would have marks if he cut his wrists. So he slid his arm around Dean’s waist and brought him forward, curving him back over his arm slightly and pressing the tip of the blade just about Dean’s heart. Maybe not the most practical place but Sam liked the idea. He drew deep along the skin, watching the blood pool before pressing forward to tentatively lap at the first drops.

Dean's lashes fluttered closed as soon as Sam's tongue rasped against his skin. The sting of the wound burned at him, he moaned softly and let Sam's arm bear his weight. Letting his arms fall to his sides he felt Sam’s tongue again, hot and rough as it swept up the length of the cut.

The tingle and spark of power flared through Sam, more intense than the night before and Sam hadn’t been prepared for it. He hadn’t anticipated it to leave such a heady rush rippling through his mind and body. Just like he hadn’t expected it to turn him on _so_ much. Sam moaned and latched onto the cut, pulling blood from the wound and letting it roll across his tongue. The way Dean seemed to enjoy it just as much made Sam’s entire body twitch.

Throwing his arm up Dean curled it around Sam's neck and pulled him closer, urging him to drink more. Moaning softly, again and again, Dean felt every single movement of Sam's mouth and tongue. It was almost as though he could feel the blood leaving his body. The power between them was tangible, buzzing and humming like some kind of electric current. “Not too much,” he murmured.

Jerking back from the wound, Sam dragged the taste of blood across his lips then pulled Dean closer, crushing their lips together. He held tight to Dean as he fell back on the bed, pulling the Demon over him and moaning as their flesh slid together. “Ride me,” Sam gasped into the kiss, pressing down on Dean’s thigh to get his ass to slide along Sam’s painfully hard cock. This shouldn’t be so hot, none of this, but Sam was certain he’d never felt anything like it before.

Dean could barely draw a breath in. The pain from the knife wound was bittersweet and he already missed the feel of Sam's lips there. Groaning he reached over to grab the bottle of lube and poured some into his palm. Throwing the bottle over his shoulder his slid his hand up the length of Sam's arousal. Hard and heavy in his hand - he felt it twitch and pulse when the lube covered the hot flesh.

Swallowing, Dean stared down at Sam’s face. His cheeks were ruddy, lips blood-stained. Already Dean knew he loved to look at Sam when he was like that. Sam, when he _wanted_.

Each breath Sam pulled in was shaky, his eyes half lidded and focused on Dean. This was intoxicating; he could so easily get caught up in it. Then Dean’s hand was gripping him at the base and Sam couldn’t help pushing him back onto his cock, wanting to be buried in that tight heat all over again.

“Dean,” he gasped hips jerking forward in constant pursuit for _more_. “C’mon. _Jesus_.”

Arching his back, Dean slid down slowly on Sam’s cock. Jaw clenched tight he groaned quietly as the familiar burn took over. _So full_. Rocking back hard, Dean let out a small sound - entirely too close to a whimper. If he cared, he’d deny it. He didn’t care, Sam didn’t care.

Sam’s face was the perfect picture. His hair was sticking to the sweat on his forehead; his bottom lip was swollen where he’d bitten down on it. Then his hands slid up Dean’s thighs and shoved him back all the way.

Dean did cry out that time. Every time he thought Sam couldn’t get deeper, he did. Each thrust up was harder than the one before; everything was more perfect the _next_ time. His nails bumped over Sam’s abs and he picked up his rhythm rocking back and forth, driving his _lover_ deep inside him.

The low keening noises that were falling from Sam’s mouth might have been embarrassing if he had any ability to use his mind at that point. Dean though was driving him more insane than he thought possible and Sam’s hips were jerking up out of his control. His hands slid along Dean’s body, gripping his thighs, sliding up to his hips, digging into his muscles and using the leverage to drive Dean hard down onto him.

“God-” Sam groaned and slid his hands up, curling fingers roughly into Dean’s shoulders and pulling him down hard. The Demon’s chest crushed hard against his and Sam pushed forward, slanting his lips over Dean’s. His tongue pushed forward, working at the wound on Dean’s lip until it split open and blood was once more coating his mouth.

Hissing at the pain Dean felt the heat flare between them again. Somehow he knew it would be like this - that Sam would just want _more_. Putting more force into the kiss Dean slid up and down the hunter's cock, rode hard at the lust that was grating at him. A few months and a handful of touches and he was _fucking_ addicted to Sam.

Sam’s fingers wove and dug hard into Dean’s hair, the kiss nearly as forceful and rough as the snap up of his hips. It sent shudders through his system, pleasure curling up and spinning his mind. He was fairly sure it was the blood that made him feel so out of control but Sam didn’t care, he wanted to take it all, wanted to test it afterwards to see what he could do. Mostly though, he wanted Dean more than he’d ever thought he would and his moaned echoed through the kiss, bodies coming together and falling apart just as quickly.

Everything caught up to Dean quickly. Sam was so _strong_ \- he felt connected to the hunter - drawn into him. Closing his eyes he simply let the pleasure run through him even as the flare of his orgasm burst to life deep inside. Hips rocking against Sam's he thrust his tongue hard into the hunter's mouth. Sam's hands guided his hips, faster, more, the friction almost _killing_ Dean.

He came without even having a chance to take a breath. Aching and thick, his cock pulsed again and again, come splashing up Sam's chest. The hunter's name was the only thing that Dean could get past his lips before he was gasping in a breath - his body clenching tight around Sam's cock.

Sam’s orgasm tore through him with a force that matched their intense thrusts. He jerked hard up into Dean, shuddering as he pulled from the kiss and sucked in greedy breaths. As his release slowly waned through his body Sam’s hips slowed, body sinking down into the mattress. Any thought he had about them being together only being intense post-hunt, when the adrenaline was pumping at its strongest was obviously false.

“Jesus, you’re good at that.” Sam mumbled, pulling Dean gently off him and rolling them both to the side. “Fit like a glove.”

Panting quietly, Dean collapsed down into the mattress. He kept his eyes closed for a while, waiting until he could get a little more control of _himself_. "M'good at more than just that," he murmured.

“You do seem like a pretty bad ass fighter,” Sam noted, smile playing across his lips. His heart was starting to even out again, breath coming easier, and his hand slid along Dean’s side. “Good though, didn’t think the blood thing would be so...” He trailed off, not sure how to describe it.

"So ... what?" Dean blinked a few times and swallowed. "Can you feel it?' Dean ran his hand down Sam's arm, fingers tracing the clearly defined muscles. When his fingers reached Sam's he slid their palms together.

“I can.” Sam nodded slowly, swallowing when he felt like could still _taste_ it. “It’s hot. I mean, that might just be you but still.” Sam laughed softly and curled his fingers through Dean’s, decidedly not thinking about how odd that was. Holding hands with a Demon? His life just kept getting weirder. “How does it change me? I can feel the power but, how do I even use it?”

"We'll get to that. Just - focus on it for a while - feel the heat. In me, it's like a pressure building up, something that's gotta come out. My eyes..." Dean cast his gaze down. "That probably won't happen to you but - I feel like if I don't do something with it it'll just kinda _blow_." It felt weird, talking about being a Demon and what it was like.

Sitting up slightly Dean used the sheet to wipe Sam's chest clean. When Sam frowned up at him, he smirked. "What? They change the sheets right?"

“Yeah but I saw the maid chick, I feel bad for her.” Sam shrugged and shook his head. “We gotta get out of this town, man. It’s risky staying here with the death and all. Should head West.” Sam groaned as he rolled over, stretching his arms high above his head. Glancing over he met Dean’s eyes for a moment and shrugged. “Always something happening out West, we could, I need to practice right? So I need something to practice _on_.”

"Yeah. A Demon ... to dispatch." Dean pulled his hand from Sam's gently and slid closer to the edge of the bed. His jeans were still crumpled on the floor so he bent down and snatched them up, hopping slightly as he stood to pull them on. It was really going to _suck_ being stuck between two worlds. "You gonna go today? Want me to meet you somewhere?"

“You can co-” Sam looked over at Dean, cutting himself off because it was a little ridiculous. Of course Dean didn’t want to ride around in his car with him when he could just disappear and reappear wherever. “Sure. I guess you can just find me, wherever I stop. Probably gonna spend a few days on the road.”

“Okay. Listen. If you get sick or anything - I’ll be around, you know? I don’t think you will.” When he saw the blank look on Dean’s face he smiled. “The blood - I mean. Yeah.” Running a hand over his hair he paused a few moments then started looking for his t-shirt. “You threw my clothes all over,” he muttered half under his breath.

Bending down, Sam slowly pulled Dean’s shirt up off the floor and held it up. “I think that got uh, a little used last night. You can take one of mine.” He shrugged and gestured to his bag. “I’m gonna shower. Guess I’ll see you around.” Sam headed for the bathroom, pausing for a moment to look back at Dean. “Think I’ll get sick?”

"Nah, I think you're a big, _strong_ man. Think you'll be fine." Dean grinned crookedly and padded over to Sam's bag. "Lemme know how long you feel it. We'll judge how much - for next time." _Next time._ Dean sucked his bottom lip into his mouth.

Yanking a t-shirt out he sighed and walked quickly over to where Sam was still standing. Pressing his lips to Sam's shoulder blade he leaned against the hunter's broad back for a few moments. "Maybe next time, you'll let me travel with you." Closing his eyes Dean disappeared from the room.

Sam blinked at the empty room, frown pulling at his lips. “Fucking Demons,” he muttered, shaking his head and turning into the bathroom. It wasn’t _his_ fault if Dean had ignored all his previous attempts at sort of inviting him along. Maybe it was better for them to be apart for a little while anyway, so Sam could think things out and make sure this was really what he wanted. The blood, not Dean. There was hardly a question there.

-=-=-=-

Banging on Sam's motel room door seemed a little stupid but Dean did it anyway. He knew Sam was in there - it was late and the impala was parked outside. It had only been three days since he’d left Sam two states away. Felt longer. Dean felt stupid that it felt longer.

"What you knockin' for?"

"Shut up, Brady. You're just here to Demonstrate something." Dean shoved his hand at the Blonde's shoulder and smirked.

"We're Demons Dean, we can just - appear." Brady snorted and rubbed at his shoulder.

"Brady? Shut. Up."

Dean banged on the door again and when Sam finally yanked it open he grinned up at him.

“Hey Dean,” Sam glanced over at the other man with Dean and quirked an eyebrow. “What’s going on?” He’d been wondering when Dean would turn up again, not like he’d been waiting or anything, it was just curiosity. Definitely.

Dean followed Sam's gaze and nodded at Brady. "'Nother Demon. Brought him over for us to experiment on."

"Wow. Don't sugar coat it, Dean." Brady lifted a hand and waved it at Sam.

"Got beer, Sammy?" Dean slapped Sam on the shoulder and pushed past him into the Motel room. "Mini fridge," he said happily. Sam kept beer in them usually, one of the few things he knew for certain about the hunter.

Brady smiled and shrugged and squeezed past Sam.

“Help yourselves,” Sam muttered as he closed the door then slowly turned back to Dean and the other Demon. Awesome, now he was hanging out with two Demons. Wherever his dad was, he was probably as pissed off as was possible at Sam. “So uh, experiment? That mean there’s more blood involved?” Sam hoped Dean didn’t want him to drink from this other Demon. It seemed somehow safer just taking in Dean’s blood.

Dean handed a beer to Brady then bent to grab two more. He offered one to Sam then pulled it back. "No. You should stay sober. I better drink both." Grinning again Dean put one beer on the table and opened his. "I _really_ like beer," he said to Brady.

"It's okay," Brady shook his head and laughed. "Where you want me?"

"Bed." Dean winked at Sam and headed over to sit down. "Me and Sam gotta get him charged up first."

Shrugging out of his jacket Dean downed half the bottle of beer and slid it on to the top of the night stand. "Got your knife, Sam?" Licking his lips, Dean tried to look like he hadn't been thinking about _this_ every damn second since they left. Well, this and Sam fucking him. _That_ had been in his mind a lot.

Brady wandered over and sank down beside Dean looking at the Demon then the hunter and back.

“Do I even get to know what’s happening before we do this?” Sam asked though he found himself walking over to his duffel bag, bending down to get the knife. “I’ve lost my mind.” He muttered, rising again and crossing the room to Dean.

Taking a few deep breaths, Dean glanced at the knife then rolled up his sleeve. "You're gonna drink my blood. We're gonna try you out. See what you can do. Brady here, he's been ordered to help me out."

"Help you out." Brady laughed and took a swig of beer.

"Shut up, Brady. Drink. Sam." Dean felt his eyes darken as his fingers rubbed along his forearm. He could already _feel_ himself getting hard, his jeans tightening across his hips. "C'mon."

“If I knew it was so easy to get you to beg...” Sam murmured, sharing a private smile with Dean before grasping his arm and drawing it up. It felt weird to do it with an audience, even though Brady was clearly not the kind to bat an eye at this kind of thing. Sam was just more than a little aware of how he tended to get when Dean and he were in this position and he definitely didn’t want to do _that_ with an audience.

Drawing the knife across Dean’s forearm, Sam felt the instant heat of desire as blood seeped up on the skin. He dipped down, lick once up through the dark substance before locking his mouth over the wound and sucking. He shifted closer on his knees, laying his arm across Dean’s legs, letting the back of his fingers rest against Dean’s crotch. It was oddly reassuring to feel how this affected Dean just as much.

"Whoa," Brady murmured.

"Fuck off," Dean hissed. His hand tangled in Sam's hair, and he tried to hold still. This belonged to him and Sam, he didn't want Brady knowing what it did to him. A Demon and a hunter. His thumb swept across Sam's cheek as the man sucked hard on the cut across his forearm. "How much this time, Sammy? How's it feel?"

Sam pulled up off the cut, tongue sliding across his lip as he blinked up at Dean. He could feel the power tingling through him, rippling out, and he almost pushed up to kiss Dean but the faint noise to the side of them had him stopping, glancing over. He stared at the blond Demon for a long moment before sliding his eyes back to Dean. “Feels like maybe enough. I don’t know.”

"Okay." Dean looked down, hiding the disappointment on his face. "Right then. Let's do this. Brady, put your beer down - don't want you makin' a mess." Standing, Dean held out his hand and hauled Sam up to his feet. "So, you feel it?" He walked around to stand behind Sam, pressing up against the hunter's back.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded slowly, glancing back over his shoulder at Dean before looking toward the Demon still on the bed. “What do I do now?” He wondered how much this Demon knew about what Sam was supposed to do. It didn’t seem like he’d come willingly if he knew he was meant to pull the Demon from its human body.

"Do something to focus yourself... like - okay raise your hand." Dean slid his hand down Sam's arm and held his wrist as he raised it. His lips settled against Sam's ear and he lowered his voice. "Just think about the power, the way it feels inside. Think back to drinking the blood and imagine it going down your throat, into you. From me," he whispered the last part.

Brady sat back on the bed and got comfortable, looking skeptical. “Dean? I got other things-”

“Shut up, Brady or I’ll shut you up.” Dean slid his free hand around Sam’s waist and slipped his fingers under the hunter’s t-shirt. “Focus, Sammy.”

Part of Sam felt tempted to point out that focusing was almost impossible while Dean was practically molded up against him but he kept his mouth shut. He fixed his eyes on Brady, narrowing them as he forced all his energy to gather in his mind and build. There was no way to describe it, a slight tug in his mind, and the strangest rush of tingling power.

Sam could feel it seeping from him and it felt like so much he expected something incredible to happen. In reality, it just seemed like the Demon on the bed was still mostly bored and annoyed at being there. Sam clenched his jaw, pushed himself to focus harder, and when the Demon parted his lips to speak again a few wisps of smoke fell from his mouth. It felt like it took everything out of Sam to make it happen but there was still the underlying glow of success.

"Good," Dean murmured.

"Good? That was fuckin' weird." Brady shrugged his shoulders and slid a little further away. "Felt like you were in my head, man."

Dean's fingers curled into the muscles that had tightened across Sam's abs. He could feel Sam panting, his body was trembling. "You okay, Sam?"

“Yeah just, gotta sit down.” Sam caught Dean’s hand and pulled him toward the bed, dropping down onto the edge. He didn’t want Dean too far away at this point; it felt less like he was going to fall apart with him close. And no, he wasn’t giving that much thought. His eyes slid over to Brady then back to Dean. “Does he have to stay here much longer?”

"Brady, get out," Dean shoved at the other Demon.

"What? I just-"

"Just _go_!" Dean raised his voice and pushed roughly at the Demon. He watched as Brady stumbled to his feet and drained his beer. "Now." Tossing a sneer at Dean over his shoulder, Brady disappeared.

Turning to Sam, Dean rubbed the man's chest. "Talk to me, are you tired? Dizzy? What was it like?" Secretly, he was shocked Sam had managed as much as he had. Being able to focus that much after one brief lesson was a good sign. A _very_ good sign. Brady was pretty young, not very strong and in his first meat suit but it was still an accomplishment. Another step to being finished his job.

“A little tired, yeah.” Sam nodded and rubbed his forehead, sighing softly. “It was weird, I could feel all this... energy. It was building in me and I just kind of shoved it toward him I guess. Didn’t do much, but, I felt like I could. Maybe more blood, more work on it.” Sam looked up toward Dean, lips twitching in a faint smile. “Did I do alright?”

"Yeah, you did good, Sammy." Dean smiled slightly and slid his palm up Sam's chest to rub the side of his neck gently. "You unseated him a little, that's _real_ good. You sure won't need me around very long." Tousling Sam's hair Dean sat back slightly. "You want something to eat or drink? What you need? Want me to leave you alone to rest?"

“Why do you do that?” Sam asked softly, glancing over at Dean then away. “Are you a self deprecating Demon? You just...” Sam sighed softly and shrugged. “Forget it. I’m good. You can do whatever you want.” He couldn’t figure out how to describe Dean. Sometimes he felt like _too much_. Other times Sam wanted to do things and _be_ things with him which simply didn’t make sense.

Dean stayed silent for a few moments, staring over at Sam. Dropping his gaze he rubbed at the blood that was still on his forearm, the cut was stinging but he wanted to feel the soothing touch of Sam's mouth again. "Should probably watch you for a while, make sure you're okay."

“Okay.” Sam nodded and slid a hand up through his hair, scooting back along the bed and looking around the motel room. “What do you do? When you’re not here I mean, where do you go? Do you have other jobs?” He dropped his hand to the bed beside him, patting once and smiling a little uncertainly at Dean.

Snagging his beer off the night table, Dean sat back beside Sam. "I get around. I'm tryin' to find someone - another Demon. The Demon that is leading all this _shit_. Some of us are good at hidin', lots of practice I guess."

Dean offered the bottle to Sam and smiled wryly.

Sam took the beer and sipped from it, rolling the taste around inside his mouth. Alcohol was a go to, usually to make his thoughts a little lighter, but now compared to the blood still lingering in his system it was nothing. Could Sam really be addicted to it already? Even more than he was to Dean?

“Why are you trying to find him? To get more answers?” Sam had been doing some research, about Demons and the one he was supposedly meant to kill to keep Lucifer from rising. It was all pretty overwhelming.

"Her. Lilith. I'm looking for the one you need to kill. She's a sneaky bitch. Not much info coming from the boss these days - bit of a one way street communications wise." Dean let his head fall back against the headboard. Fighting the urge to reach for Sam's hand, his thigh, anything, Dean groaned softly.

"So - can you still feel it? You didn't drink very much." Dean's thumb rubbed at the edges of the cut again. Sam had made this one deep.

“Just barely. Like, using the power wore it out somehow.” Sam murmured softly and turned his head to Dean, considering him for a long moment. “You can ask you know. If you want me to take more, or... if you want something more. I think it’s normal for you to want things. You’re- I mean, you’re basically as human as you can get right?” Sam had been using that logic for the past few days. Whenever his thoughts strayed to Dean for too long, Sam insisted in his mind that Dean was almost human, and that explained the weird sort of crush. Not a crush, just a... fixation.

"Humans don't have a monopoly on wanting things, although you’re pretty good at it. Do you want more?" Dean rested his arm across Sam's lap, fingers curling into a tight fist. "Take what you want."

Sam considered Dean for a long moment. Of course he wanted _more_ but part of him wondered if Dean wanted it too, just as much. That was how life was for Sam though; usually he considered other people’s wants before his own. He figured there was nothing wrong with being selfish.

Grasping Dean’s wrist, Sam tugged his arm up and slid his mouth over the Demon’s cut, running his tongue along it once more to break the skin open again. He sucked along the skin, pulling blood up into his mouth and rolling it across his tongue. The rush surge of power felt stronger this time, just a little easier to grasp and he focused on it, letting it build up in him.

Rolling into Sam's side, Dean moaned softly. He loved the way Sam's lips sealed over his skin, the way his tongue glided along the cut every so often. It stung and Dean was sure he could feel every single drop of blood sliding out of his body. Sliding further down onto the bed, Dean shoved at the bottom of Sam's t-shirt until he could press his lips to Sam's ribs. He just wanted to touch him, lick at the salty skin, get _closer_.

Sam sucked along Dean’s cut until he had to force himself back to stop. He could probably drink more, for as long as he could stomach the blood but he didn’t want to take too much. Sliding back, Sam grasped Dean’s shoulders and tugged him up, bringing their mouths together in a hard and sloppy kiss tinged with blood. His hands ran restlessly along Dean’s body, wanting to touch and caress every inch of him.

“Dean,” Sam moaned softly and ran his nose along Dean’s jaw, breathing in his scent. “Does it hurt? When I drink too much?”

Dean's breathing was a little ragged, his hips rolling gently toward Sam's body. "S'okay, don't care. If you want me. If you want it, it's yours." Dean licked the taste of his own blood off his lips and slanted his mouth over Sam's again. “Sam,” he murmured into the kiss, “can I...”

“You can do anything you want.” Sam moaned softly, fingers brushing along the still bleeding wound on Dean’s skin. He pulled back a few inches, watching Dean as his fingers rose to his mouth to pull the dark liquid off his skin. He certainly wasn’t getting tired of the rush that came with tasting Dean’s blood any time soon.

It was about the blood already; Dean knew that would happen. Sighing he leaned hard against Sam, letting the hunter take his weight. "Just need a rest... to rest. I mean." He buried his face in Sam's neck. The scent of _Sam_ was all around him and it made his heart ache a little bit.

“Okay.” Sam nodded slowly and slid his arms around Dean, gently running a hand down his back. “What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?” He asked quietly, a soft frown on his face. “I thought you wanted...”

Patting Sam's chest Dean smiled lazily. "S'all good. You didn't hurt me. Hardly hurts anymore - your knife is sharp. Just tires me out a little." Even though Dean did feel a little weak, he didn't really need to be lying against Sam. He should be back in the thick of it, trying to find Lilith and trying to understand what he was supposed to guide Sam toward.

The problem was the feelings that Dean had to fight back. He wanted Sam to need him for much more than blood, training and he _knew_ it would only end up with him being brought crashing back down to earth. Sam might be able to set aside his reluctance to trust a Demon for a little while - but it would always be there. Living in a little fantasy world wasn’t going to get Dean anywhere.

“Okay.” Sam nodded, holding Dean a little closer than necessary. It brought home what he’d been trying to deny over the last few days. He’d missed Dean, not just the company and companionship, but the Demon himself. It was certainly doing a number to his brain. “Are you sticking around for awhile?” He asked quietly, curling his fingers around Dean’s shoulders to massage softly.

"Can I?" Dean shifted a little and let his arm rest heavily in Sam's lap. "Wanna stay." He was a little dizzy, his eyes felt better closed than open. "When I met you I thought you'd be a dick. You're not really." Dean's voice was quiet, his words a little slurred. Maybe it wasn’t the loss of blood at all, maybe it was just being near Sam or the _stupid_ fact that he couldn’t seem to sleep when he wasn’t near the hunter.

“You can stay.” Sam murmured and chuckled softly. “I’m definitely not a dick. Though I’m sure I have moments. When I met you I thought you’d be... evil?” He half tugged Dean across his body, massaging fingers down Dean’s back in slow circles. “I’m glad you’re not. Well, to me. Are you? Do you do... other Demonly things?” He was really curious about Dean’s real life, what he did when Sam wasn’t around, maybe because he wanted to know about who Dean was.

"Do what I gotta do. Havin' a powerful Demon for a boss is a bitch, Sammy. That _is_ painful." Rolling his head slightly, Dean shoved his hand weakly at the collar on his shirt. "See? Just under my hair. Alastair did that with a branding iron." He let his arm fall back into Sam's lap. "I was bad."

Sam hissed softly a definite flare of protectiveness causing him to pull Dean harder against him. “What did you do?” He asked quietly, stroking his hand down Dean’s side. He hated the idea of Dean being _punished_ or anything like that. He couldn’t explain it, but he wanted Dean to be safe and protected, _he_ wanted to protect him.

"Wouldn't tell him where you were. He wanted to play with you." Dean nestled closer and curled his fingers into the soft material of Sam's shirt. "Don't worry, m'sposed to look after you."

“That happened to you, because of me?” Sam asked in a tight whisper, shoulders tensing. “I don’t- that shouldn’t happen. Can you just, not go back to him? Can’t you just stay away?” His fingers drifted to Dean’s shirt collar, just barely running over his skin.

"I stay away when I can." Smiling slightly, he patted Sam's thigh. "You worried 'bout me? That's cute." Yawning, Dean pressed his nose into Sam's chest and blew out a long breath. "Don't hate me too quickly," he mumbled.

“Hate you?” Sam frowned and shook his head. “No Dean, you’ve got it way wrong.” He laughed humorlessly and sighed, dipping forward to run his nose through Dean’s hair. “I don’t make a habit of doing things like this with people I hate.”

"Make me wish I was human again." Dean's arm was stinging slightly and he shifted it. "No good wishin' though, Sammy."

“You tryin’ to break up with me already?” Sam asked with another faint laugh, the action fading off into a moan within moments. “You confuse me.”

"Demon. S'what we do. Mess shit up." His arm tightened around Sam, mind still giong over possibilities. "Hunters fix things."

“Alright.” Sam nodded slowly, not really sure what else to say. He’d already known the way he was thinking about Dean was a bad thing, like he latching onto the first person to understand him on that level. Or really, the _only_ person. But as Dean was good at pointing out, he wasn’t a person at all. “So what happens then? You’re free of all this once I can successfully pull a Demon from a body? Is that the major goal for your job?”

"Nah, we'll live happily ever after, hunt Demons together, you'll let me drive." Dean laughed to cover up the fact that the joke actually made him feel kind of sick. "Long time yet, Sammy." Time for Dean to get closer, and really mess himself up when everything ended.

“Okay.” Sam nodded once more, arms loosening around Dean. He knew it was Dean nature to make a joke of things like that, he couldn’t expect anything serious. It wasn’t like he could really have what Dean was making a joke of. “I’d never let you drive my car though.” He pointed out, voice flat in the beginning until he put a lighter air behind it. “Only thing that’s really mine.”

Propping himself up on one hand Dean blinked his eyes open and locked his gaze with Sam's. "I'm yours too." Pressing his lips to the hunter's, he moaned at the lingering taste of his blood. "You should rest too," he whispered.

“You’ll be here?” Sam asked quietly, cupping Dean’s jaw to keep him close so their lips could meet once more. He liked the way Dean said that, _I’m yours_. He wanted to believe it and at the moment he easily could. “I want you to stay.” He said softly in case Dean didn’t know, smiling almost shyly at him.

"I'll be here, Sammy." Leaning back slightly Dean grabbed his t-shirt and tugged it off then let himself fall backwards on the bed to shimmy out of his jeans. "Bed," he muttered. Rolling again and tried to work his way under the covers and was only successful when Sam finally helped him.

“You should come with me you know.” Sam muttered, rolling over to flip off the light and tug off his shirt before sliding in beside Dean once more. “Just saying, if you want.” He tugged Dean against him, pressing his lips to a bare shoulder.

"Anything you want, Sammy." Dean slid closer under the sheets and his arm snaked over the man's waist. "You want me to come, I'll come with you." _Hell_ , if Sam wanted it - Dean would probably do some pretty damn stupid things. Like falling sleep in a hunter’s arms; not so bright.

“Right.” Sam nodded and bit back the temptation to say _because you have to_. He had to remind himself that no matter how human Dean could seem, he wasn’t and the worlds they came from couldn’t be more different. “Night Dean,” Sam whispered, closing his eyes and breathing in Dean’s scent to see if could memorize it this time.

“Night, Sam.” Dean could feel sleep dragging him away. _Finally_. So much easier to sleep knowing where Sam was.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam thought maybe drinking blood from Dean wore the demon out more than he’d admit because he was up for a good hour before it seemed like Dean was even remotely stirring. Eventually, he slipped free from the demon and headed for a quick shower, dressing and heading out. It wasn’t often he got to do things like buy breakfast for people, he was pretty sure Dean wouldn’t so much see the _special_ about it, but Sam would.

When he got back to the motel, he pulled up his laptop, searching through the hunts that had seemed to have the most potential in the area. It was odd to find himself thinking things like, _I could look into this while Dean looks into this_. Like they were some type of team or something which, clearly, they weren’t.

His eyes slid over to the bed when Dean finally stirred and a slight smile tugged at his lips. “Got coffee and pastries, if you’re interested. You slept _forever_.”

“ _You_ wore me out.” Dean smiled and stretched his arms up high above his head as he lengthened his body along the mattress. “Time is it?”

“I hardly did anything last night.” Sam pointed out with a smirk before glancing down at his computer. “After ten. Coffee’s still pretty fresh, haven’t been back long.” His gaze slid back to Dean, head tilting curiously. “Do you eat and drink?”

“Beer and pizza.” Dean rolled onto his stomach and flopped his head to the side so he could stare at Sam. “You always look good, how the _hell_ do you do that?” He felt a bit worn and scratched at the side of his head.

Sam nearly choked on his coffee, arching a brow at Dean as he slammed a fist into his chest. When he managed to get a better grip on himself, he laughed. “I _don’t_ always look good. Clearly you’re trying to get into my pants and I’m just not that kind of guy.” He smirked at Dean, shaking his head slowly.

Reaching out, Dean motioned at Sam with his fingers. “Fetch me coffee. I’ll try one of those instead of beer.” Smirking, he winked at Sam.

“I can tell you’re gonna be a very pleasant sidekick.” Sam muttered, but snagged both coffees, walking over to the side of the bed and crawling on his knees until he could settle down on the mattress beside him. “Sleep good?”

“Too good,” Dean muttered. His hands curled round the warm coffee cup and he smiled up at Sam. “You still feelin’ okay? No weird after effects?”

“I feel...” Sam hummed softly and half slumped against Dean, turning in to run his nose through Dean’s hair. “Alright. I kind of feel a little hung over. But not too bad. I think it could be addictive, you know? Not sure we should let it get to that point.”

“Don’t wanna be addicted to me, Sammy?” Dean turned into Sam’s neck and sucked gently on the skin. Yeah, absolutely in over his head.

Smiling softly, Sam dipped down to let his lips run across Dean’s. “Got no problem being addicted to you, I can handle that. The blood though, it could hurt me.” Sam pulled back a little, meeting Dean’s gaze. “It could, huh? It could really fuck me up if I’m not careful.”

Shrugging a shoulder, Dean settled back to take a sip of his coffee. “I don’t know. It seems to just make you stronger; give you some kind of ability to focus the energy kickin’ around in that head of yours. You’ve only had such small doses.” The coffee was still warm and Dean didn’t mind the sweetness of it, but he preferred beer.

“You havin’ second thoughts?” Dean could see in those hazel eyes there was a lot of thinking going on. It wasn’t surprising. A few short months ago Sam was hunting and killing demons. There had been some big changes in the man’s life.

“Just thinking things through.” Sam frowned and rubbed along his thigh, slowly bringing his coffee up a moment later. “Would you still be here? If I said no to the blood.” He stared at the blankets while he asked, trying not to think about what a weird question it was. Dean probably thought he was insane.

"Yeah, Sam. I would." Dean found it entirely too easy to say that and it sparked a little bit of worry in him. "Said I was gonna take care of you. Who'll save your ass if I'm not here? And. I mean, this-" he gestured between the two of them.

“Yeah. This.” Sam nodded and met Dean’s eyes, smiling at him before dropping his gaze. “This is good.” He almost whispered and sighed. Then a laugh tore through him and his head tipped back, hand sliding up through his hair. “God, this is insane. You know, my entire life I _hated_ how alone I always was. I hated I couldn’t tell anyone about my life. Even with my brief time at Stanford, I knew it wasn’t going to last and I completely butchered almost every relationship I had. Then you, a demon of all things, you’re the one who gets me and wants to be around me. And I _like_ you. What is that?” He looked up at Dean, shrugging. “Irony I guess.”

"I'm pretty irresistible." Dean smirked, but it faded quickly to a far softer smile. "Sam. I'm thinking you need to hear me say that - I'm here 'cause I like being here and not just because I've been _told_ to be here. I - " His hand drifted up to the scar behind his ear.

"If I saw you just like a job... I wouldn't have kept Alistair from you. Trust me. It would have been a lot easier to tell him what he wanted to know." Looking down at Sam's fingers, Dean smiled. The man's hands were huge, his fingers long, but there was still a kind of strange grace about him.

“Well not that I like that you had to get tortured on my behalf, but I appreciate it.” Sam laughed softly and shifted around to lie next to Dean again. “So you’re staying with me then? I mean, I know there’s a certain level of irony being a demon and hunting evil shit but you’re not... it’s not the same.” He shrugged and rolled half on top of Dean to put his coffee down on the nightstand.

“Yeah. If it’s okay with you. I mean, yeah I’m ‘sposed to watch out for you and shit. But I like this. I like being _with_ you.” Dean frowned and looked away. “Can’t sleep when I’m not near you,” he almost whispered. He half hoped Sam wouldn't hear.

Part of Sam was tempted to make a joke about Dean’s words, tease him like Dean teased so easily, but the look on Dean’s face was different. Sam felt the strangest need to reassure him. “Then good. You’ll stay then, and you can sleep near me every night.” Sam smiled softly at Dean, tracing a finger down his jaw. “I like you being with me too. And sleeping does seem easier. Even if I have to put up with your cuddling.”

Lips curving into a crooked smile, Dean turned into Sam's touch automatically. "I gotta put up with your hunting - so we're even." His heart settled back into a steady rhythm and he took a few deep breaths. He could be there whenever he wanted. That was good.

“You don’t get to drive my car,” Sam pointed out, smiling a little brighter at Dean. “And I expect you to put out, a lot.” His head dipped down to slide along Dean’s neck, mouthing over his skin. This all came so easily, Sam wasn’t sure how, but he was starting to feel glad about it.

“I want lots of beer. And lots of this...kissing thing. Your mouth, on me.” Already he was reduced to half sentences. Sam’s lips did that to him. The way his body reacted to Sam was crazy-good; maybe Dean would find out a little bit about addiction himself.

“I can promise there will be loads of that.” Sam murmured against Dean’s neck, steadily kissing his way down. “What do you remember about before? Can you tell me?” He asked against Dean’s chest, mouth parting to slide over his lover’s skin.

“B..before?” Dean shifted lower on the bed and lifted a hand to tangle in Sam’s hair. “Before what?”

“When you were human.” Sam tilted his head up, peering through his lashes at Dean. “If you don’t mind talking about it. I’m curious.” He turned his head back to Dean’s chest, trying to distract him with gentle kisses and bites.

Groaning softly, Dean curled both hands into Sam's hair as the man kissed his way across his body. He could get _so_ used to this. "I wasn't anyone special. Just a guy trying to stay alive. Working on a ranch." Dean frowned at the conflicting sensations; Sam's lips were hot and sweet on his flesh, but the memories so vague and painful were pressing at Dean. “Was a bad winter, lost a lot of horses... made a deal.” He sighed, arching up slightly when Sam’s teeth grazed over his nipple.

“A deal,” Sam said through a low gasp, eyes darting up to Dean. He felt the faintest twinge of sadness for Dean, that his life would end like that, but he’d heard stories like it before. “Was it a long time ago?” Going back to sucking Dean’s nipple between his lips, Sam pulled it up slowly and tried to imagine Dean, mid-1800’s or something, a rancher. But he couldn’t place it.

Momentarily distracted by the intensity of Sam’s touch, Dean simply hummed and twisted slightly. “Does it matter? Why? Why you wanna know all this, Sammy?” His fingers tightened in Sam’s hair, pulling his head up so their eyes could meet. “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours now?”

“You know all about me. I just want to know about you. You’re more than just a demon on a job. So, I want to know what that is.” Sam smiled softly at Dean and twisted up, grasping Dean’s wrist. “I can stop talking and do other things with my mouth if you’d like.”

"I loved my land," Dean murmured. Straining forward, he was _just_ able to brush his lips against Sam's. "I used to spend hours riding alone; it was beautiful after the deal. Perfect weather all the time, just the right amount of rain, beautiful sunsets, gentle winters and mild summers."

He could feel that Sam's body was responding to his and pressed his thigh up against Sam's crotch. "Was worth the deal. Some things, they're worth the stuff you gotta get through to have them." Catching Sam's bottom lip between his teeth, Dean tugged gently, smiling, and then pressed his mouth hard against Sam's.

Sam slid his weight up along Dean’s body, pressing him down into the mattress as their lips ran together. He loved kissing Dean; there was always a level of intensity to it that Sam couldn’t get enough of. His hands slid along Dean’s sides, heart picking up speed in his chest. “Sounds nice,” he finally managed to murmur into the kiss, pulling back a little to smile down at Dean. “Did you have anyone then? A wife or family or something?”

"Nah, just me... there was this guy. Things weren't the same then, Sam." Sadness welled in Dean for a few moments and he shoved it aside. He leaned up to try and catch Sam's lips again and smiled when Sam teased him by staying just out of reach. "What about you? You've been with people." His eyes narrowed slightly when he felt the prick of jealousy.

“I’ve had things, random hook ups.” Sam pursed his lips and smiled wryly. “When I was eleven, I was in love with my teacher. But I was pretty stupid, tripped all over myself and stuff. The guy figured it out and took me aside to talk to me about it, this kid heard and I got teased for months.” Sam snorted and shook his head. “I have no idea where that came from. What a stupid story.”

"I think it's cute. At least I know you weren't always the _domineering_ hunter that you are today." Dean closed his eyes for a few moments and let himself feel the weight of Sam's body. He was strong, his body was hard muscle and smooth flesh; it was all kind of intoxicating.

“No, that’s a more recent development. Well, since my dad.” Sam slid his legs to either side of Dean’s body, sitting up slowly to grin down at him. “I kind of dated this guy in college. Well, dated meaning we slept together more than once. Didn’t end very well.” Sam bit down on his lip for a moment before meeting Dean’s eyes. “Have you ever seen him? My dad.”

"Seen him?" Dean's blood ran a little cold. He had wondered when they'd get around to a question like that. There wasn't a demon around who didn't know what John Winchester had done to save his son. It wasn't every day that someone on the boss' _most wanted_ list turned himself over for something as simple as his son's life.

"I... " Dean rubbed at the top of his ear. "No. That place, it's complicated. It's like - fuck - if you imagine a huge prison, you know? Lots of cells, places where we're each living out our own worst nightmares." Dean shivered unconsciously, hands digging into Sam's thighs.

“Can I ask you a question?” Sam asked softly, staring down at Dean. “I want... the real answer. I- my dad. It was a deal wasn’t it? Because they all said I should have been dead. The doctors and everyone. And I broke through those odds, but my dad died instead. I’ve always thought...” Sam sighed and dropped his gaze. He felt guilty for asking Dean about it, but some part of him needed to know, he’d spent so many years wondering.

"Aw, fuck, Sam..." Dean sighed and turned away. It was one of those moments he hated. The demon in him was convinced that he should do whatever was going to make Sam happy; lie to the man, tell him what he really wanted to hear deep down inside. Tell him that John Winchester hadn't sacrificed his life for his son. _That_ was exactly what a demon would do; exactly what a demon _should_ do.

Closing his eyes, Dean pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. "Sam," he said softly. Opening his eyes he looked up at the hunter and reached out to press his hand over Sam's heart.

"Sam. He made a deal with Azazel. He - gave up his life and the Colt for you to be okay. John wanted you safe and well." Dean had never had the pleasure of meeting John Winchester; the man who had come closer to defeating Azazel than anyone ever had. He'd never seen him on earth _or_ in Hell.

There was a difference certainly between thinking his dad had done this, made a deal, and actually learning that he had. Inhaling slowly, Sam slid off Dean’s body, dropping to the side but slipping his arm under Dean’s waist and dragging him in close. His mind felt crossed somewhere between not surprised and racing, as if just hearing things about his dad shot him back in time to a whole unfulfilled life.

“I think that’s the only way he could have gone.” He finally said, closing his eyes from the weight of the words. “Every person I meet that knew my dad, they have the absolute highest praises for him. They tell me how devoted to the hunt he was, how many lives he saved. I used to hate it because those were just people that my dad clung to, you know? He was so selfish. The only way he really could have gone was related to some of this shit. It’s like; maybe he thought it would make up for an entire lifetime of disappointment.” Sam’s eyes snapped open and he stared at Dean, trying to judge his look. “That made me sound like a dick, huh?”

"No, it didn't." Dean shook his head and then nestled in closer to Sam's side, leaning on his chest. "Made you sound like maybe you spent a lot of time alone as a kid. Did you?"

“Yeah.” Sam laughed humorlessly and wet his lips, trying to push back the long stored emotions. “Never got a birthday gift, never got a Christmas gift that wasn’t bought from a 7-11. It sucks being five years old and knowing monsters and shit are real. Still don’t hate him as much as I probably have a right to I guess. Maybe at some point you just realize this is it, this is your life, so you just... live it.”

"Pretty big thing he did though, yeah?" Dean propped his chin up on his hand and stared into Sam's eyes. The man's face was sad, drawn, and Dean didn't like it. "I mean, I can't imagine making that kind of sacrifice for someone. He loved you." Shrugging a shoulder, Dean lay his head down again and listened to the steady thump of Sam's heart beat. If he ever _did_ meet John Winchester he would make a point of thanking him for keeping Sam alive.

“I think it’s going to be awhile before I can use that final act to justify everything. But I. God, Dean, he’s in hell because of me. That’s not the best lasting impression.” Sam sighed and slid his arm around Dean. He couldn’t imagine what his dad would say now if he knew what Sam was doing, who he was with. “Let’s talk about something else. Or go back to not talking. I can only handle so much on the subject of him.”

“Ice cream,” Dean said firmly. “After breakfast I want ice cream. You know. Before we get on with this hunting thing.” He smiled against Sam’s shirt and inhaled the clean scent of it.

Sam laughed softly and shook his head. “There we go, a healthy diet. pizza, beer, coffee and ice cream. Sounds fantastic.” He buried his nose in Dean’s hair, inhaling slowly. Was it possible that Dean smelled more human than before?

“Just need another nap first. Now that _you’re_ here.” Dean grinned and rolled over onto Sam. “Just in case you try to get away.”

“Right, cause that was the plan.” Sam laughed softly and wrapped his arms around Dean, holding him in close and closing his eyes. He could definitely go for a nap if it involved Dean being in his arms.

-=-=-=-

Dean was nervous. Brady had been one thing, but finding this other demon had been a different kind of plan. Keeping things quieter was something Dean figured might be safer for Sam. It was all pretty damn complicated when he thought about it. Brady had done exactly what Dean wanted him to do - he'd passed on that things were going well; that Dean had made a _connection_ with the infamous Sam Winchester. Brady had been a cheap investment in buying some time.

The demon that was swearing up a storm in front of Dean this time wasn't there because he cared about the cause. It had been easy for Dean to catch the guy, he'd gotten too cocky. Possessing a young man who worked at a gas station in a small town; the bastard probably thought he could fly under the radar for a _very_ long time. Not so - when Sam pulled into that gas station to fill up.

Dean had done the usual at first, acknowledged the guy subtly then ignored him. He hadn't mentioned a thing to Sam, assuming the hunter wouldn't remember the face of some kid in a gas station. After suggesting they stop for the day, Dean had gone straight to the demon and knocked him out.

Unfortunately, he'd regained consciousness.

The body the demon was riding was maybe nineteen years old, slight frame, dark hair. He had a lingering summer tan and hair shorn close to his scalp. Dean found himself wondering what the human was _actually_ like because the demon was an annoying piece of crap.

Dean wandered around the hissing demon and made sure the ropes holding him were tight, tugged on the handcuffs that secured him to the metal pipe behind him then lifted his fingers in a wave. He'd called Sam earlier and told him where to come and the roar of the Impala's engine was unmistakable. "He's here. Be nice or I'll kick your ass."

Spinning, Dean jogged across the warehouse to the door and pulled it open. Leaning against the door frame, he watched Sam climb out of the car. Sometimes, he was surprised at how much he enjoyed watching Sam move.

“What are you up too?” Sam asked with a faint smile, pushing the door closed and slowly crossing to Dean. He liked having Dean with him more and more as time passed. They were snarky with each other, they fought in their own ways about ridiculous things, but there were times too when Sam laughed, more than he ever remembered laughing. And Dean was definitely handy to have on a hunt.

There just also happened to be moments like this where Dean would get up to something sneaky and Sam could see the look on his face. Looking around the outside of the warehouse, Sam stepped up to Dean and slid his hands into his pockets. “Should I be bracing myself for another Brady?”

“Well, we gotta try again sooner or later. This uh... this demon isn’t quite as agreeable.” Dean waved behind him and stepped forward to press up against Sam’s side. Leaning up, he kissed just under the hunter’s jaw and rubbed his nose against his cheek.

“We should do the blood thing out here then, yeah? I know how you get all worked up, probably don’t want the demon to know that.” Sam murmured softly and slipped his arm around Dean’s waist, pulling him in closer and glancing around his shoulder to see if he could spot the demon inside the warehouse.

"Me? _I_ get all worked up?" Laughing, Dean licked his lips and tugged Sam back out into the early evening air. “Me,” he scoffed.

“You completely do.” Sam grinned and tugged Dean around, crowding him up against the wall of the warehouse. “I’m gonna try and do it this time, pull the demon all the way out.” Sam dipped his head in a nod, bending down to pull the blade from the ankle strap under his jeans.

“Bet I can do it, huh?” He met Dean’s eyes, smile twitching on his lips. The point was, Sam _wanted_ to be able to do it. He wanted to show Dean that he could, so maybe he was psyching himself out but he had to try.

"Don't put so much pressure on yourself. It's only the second time you've tried a demon." Dean licked his lips again. "You're gonna need to take more this time, blood." Closing his eyes, Dean felt them darken. The mere thought of Sam taking his blood sparked his desire to life instantly.

Pressing closer to Sam, Dean slid his hand down the hunter's arm until his hand curled around the hilt of the knife. Lifting both their hands, he pressed the knife low on his throat, pushing his t-shirt collar out of the way. The fingers of his free hand slipped under Sam’s shirt and his nails scratched at the warm flesh there. “C’mon, Sammy.”

Heat curled through Sam, the soft hum of Dean’s words curled through him and Sam watched as he pressed the knife harder against Dean’s skin. Blood instantly rose along the skin, forming a dark crimson line as Sam drew across to his collar bone. His eyes shot up, mapping the flush on Dean’s cheeks, the further darkening of his eyes until there was only black.

“You shouldn’t look so hot like that,” Sam muttered before dipping down, drawing his tongue across the full line of the cut. Dean shuddered against him and Sam closed his eyes, breathing in deeply as he latched onto the wound. The blood was coming easier than before, clearly he’d cut too deep. Sam felt the rush of energy and power flare through him and he pressed forward, pushing Dean hard up against the wall and just barely lifting him from the ground as he sucked blood into his mouth.

"Fuck, Sam," Dean's heart started racing as Sam latched on to the wound. It burned and Dean's hand slapped against Sam's arm and gripped tight on the material of his jacket. Moments like this, Dean was _so_ fucking glad that he'd agreed to come and watch over Sam.

His cock thickened with each pull on his vein, his breathing already fast and shallow. Hooking his leg around Sam's, he arched forward, grinding his hips against Sam's and moaning as his head thudded back against the wall.

Sam had no idea how much he drank. It was easy to lose himself in the heat, the way Dean’s body moved up against him, the burn of pleasure. He could feel Dean’s arousal pressing through his jeans and his own hips rolled forward, seeking out the same amount of friction.

Finally, he pulled back from Dean’s neck, gasping softly as he sucked in a full breath. His hands grasped Dean’s sides, shifting him back against the wall. “Could just fuck you right here,” Sam growled, head dropping long enough to lap along the length of the cut and gather any access blood. It felt like his skin was tingling, like his body was swelling and threatening to implode.

“Next... next time we do this in the room,” Dean said roughly. Shoving hard at Sam’s shoulder, he twisted to the side and crushed his mouth against the hunter’s. Lapping at the coppery taste of his blood, Dean melted against Sam’s body and moaned.

Sam wasn’t going to point out to Dean that there was no way he was fucking anyone with another demon hanging out in the room. At that moment it was a miracle he wasn’t ripping both their clothes off right then and there. He pulled roughly back from the kiss, panting heavily as he stared at Dean. “We gotta do this now or it’s not happening.”

Dean groaned and leaned back against the warehouse for a few moments. "Okay," he muttered. His fingers pressed at the wound on his neck, it was still bleeding. "Let's go." Stumbling forward, Dean tugged his shirt collar up and pressed it against the seeping blood. "He's back in here."

Walking slowly through the warehouse, Dean kept his eyes straight ahead. If he looked back at Sam, looked at those flushed cheeks again, the tousled hair, the dark red lips - well, hell - Dean would end up on his knees in front of him. _That_ wouldn't get this training done.

Naturally, the demon started kicking up a fuss as soon as he saw them. "I'ma fuckin' kill you, _Dean_."

Rolling his eyes, Dean stopped a few feet away and stared the demon down. "Shut up. All for a greater good you idiot." He was nervous about Sam's reaction, afraid that Sam might react badly if the demon was resistant. Brady had been easy.

Swallowing thickly, Sam looked between the demon and Dean, trying not to let his nerves show. It was weird how the demon knew Dean, like they really were all connected somehow in hell. Shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts, Sam stepped a little closer, already working on forcing his energies to focus in.

His gaze landed on the demon, eyes narrowing as his hand lifted and outstretched toward the bound boy. It was a boy, probably a teenager, and Sam felt the burn of hatred for the demon, a further motivation to gather up his energy and pull the demon out. He could feel his muscles tensing; sweat beading along his brow as the tingling power traveled down his arm.

The demon strained forward hard against his bindings and glared at Sam. "Trouble gettin' it up, Sam?" He laughed thick and loud then glanced over at Dean. "Dean here, he _never_ has trouble getting it up around humans."

Stepping forward quickly, Dean drew back his fist and slammed it hard into the demon's face. "Shut the _fuck_ up. Sammy." Panting, Dean spun and stared back at Sam. "Do it, Sam."

The words had thrown Sam, his gaze temporarily flickering over to Dean then sliding back to the demon. It wasn’t true; it was just the creature trying to throw him off. Sam clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus once more. His fingers curled slightly, vision blurring for a moment as he pushed the energy along his system. If he could just focus a little harder, just a little more energy and he could pull the demon out, that boy would be safe.

Shaking at the ropes that held him, the demon yelled out in frustration and shook his head like something was hurting him. "Get out of me. Dean. Dean, don't do this - this body is just a kid. Don't let Sam hurt him."

Stepping closer to Sam, Dean licked his lips. "He's lying Sam. He's trying to throw you off. Pull him, you can do it - we both know you can."

Forcing himself to nod, Sam inhaled deeply and held it, a low noise close to a growl rocking through him as he strained to pull at the demon. It was saying something more, but Sam blocked it out, feeling the final rush as black smoke began to seep from the boy’s mouth. He couldn’t believe he was actually doing it, drawing the demon out and freeing the boy.

The cloud of black just kept rushing out and Sam was panting heavily, trying to grasp the rest of it, draw it out with invisible bonds. Then it was all reversing. Sam felt like his power was being sucked right out of him; the black cloud was rushing back into the boy’s mouth hard enough to send the whole chair back a foot or two. Sam gasped, stumbling forward and dropping to his knees, his entire body was shaking with exertion.

Gasping in a rasp of a breath, the Demon jolted and laughed. It was almost a cackle. "I _knew_ it," he hissed. "He can't do it - can't quite manage to get off... You teach him that, Dean? He looks like your typ-"

Dean's hand was around the demon's throat and squeezing. "Shut up, you don't know me." Reaching down, Dean fumbled under his pant leg and whipped out a knife.

"Oh, I know you. Know exactly what you're doing, you filth. Use him, get him to do the Devil's dirty work-" The knife whipped across the demon's throat and there was a flash of light as the skin around the wound glowed white hot for a few moments. Smoke seeped out of the man's body and curled around his lifeless limbs to disappear through the floor.

Panting, Dean leaned heavily against the chair for a few moments with his eyes squeezed closed. When he turned, Sam was still on his knees and he moved as quickly as he could to kneel in front of the hunter. "Sammy? Sam. You okay?" There was blood trickling from Sam's nose, his face covered in a sheen of sweat and Sam's shoulders were shaking. "Talk to me, Sam, please."

Forcing his gaze up, Sam stared beyond Dean at the lifeless body of the boy there. He blinked a few times, trying to understand what he was seeing, what had just happened. “What did-” He sucked in a ragged breath and slumped back on the ground, frowning up at Dean. “What did you do to him? What was that?” His eyes darted down to the knife in Dean’s hand, pursing his lips in confusion. “What is that?

The knife slipped from Dean's hand and clattered to the ground beside them. "It's ... I have it - had it- it kills demons, but it doesn't save the human. _That's_ why you're so important, Sam. Fuck, Sam you almost did it. It was so close." Reaching out tentatively, Sam tilted the man's chin up so he could look into his eyes. "You alright? Ya look like hell, Sammy."

“What did he mean?” Sam ignored the question, trying to wrap his head around the confusion of the moment. The demon’s words were still echoing in his mind and Sam couldn’t shake them, wasn’t even sure if he should. “Getting me to do the Devil’s work? I don’t get it.” His entire body felt weak and drained, heart still racing so hard in his chest it was painful.

Dropping his hand, Dean looked down at Sam's shirt. "Sam, I've told you this. Not everyone agrees with what I'm doing - there are demons... there are a _lot_ of demons who don't want you to learn this. They want Lucifer to be raised." Dean felt the blood drain from his face; well, it was out there now and about as simple and straight forward as it could be.

“Listen to me, Sam. I’m doin’ my best here,” he laughed dryly. “I’m stuck in between things, but you... _you_ Sam. There’s nothing more important to me.” Grabbing Sam’s shoulders, he shook him gently until Sam looked up at him.

“Was he telling the truth?” Sam asked quietly, staring into Dean’s eyes even though his vision blurred. “About the human thing. Have you been with other...” Sam trailed off with a sigh and looked away, forcing himself to push up off the ground and stand shakily. “Forget it. I- we should go. Need to lie down.” Sam sniffed and wiped at his nose with the back of his hand, frowning at the blood still smeared there.

Reaching out for Sam’s hand, Dean looked down again. “Sam, I would-”

“I said forget it Dean. Don’t worry about it. Doesn’t matter.” Sam shook his head, stumbling slightly and leaning into Dean because he had to. Everything felt off kilter at the moment, like he couldn’t trust Dean or the other demon. Because they were both _demons_ and Sam knew better. He should have. “I just need to lie down.” He said quietly, forcing himself upright again and heading shakily to the door.

"Sammy, I'll drive. I'll get you back to the motel." Dean trailed along behind Sam, still pressing his hand to the wound on his neck. "Sam? Sam, you almost did it." Dean stumbled and caught himself on the door frame.

“But I didn’t. And you killed him.” Sam said quietly, glancing back at Dean before pushing forward to his car. He felt oddly hurt somehow, though he wasn’t sure he had the right to be.

Tugging the passenger door open, Sam dropped heavily into the car, slumping against the seat and closing his eyes. He listened to the familiar creak of the driver’s door opening, held his breath when the vehicle shifted as Dean slipped in behind the wheel. Sam tilted slightly to pull his keys free and held them out, opening his eyes to stare at Dean. “Did you kill him because of what he said?”

"I _killed_ him because if he smoked out - and got back to ... he'd tell them were you were. Where we are. There are a lot of things I can put up with, but I don't want you hurt. Or worse." Dean snatched the keys from Sam. It was frustrating, being questioned on everything.

Firing up the engine, Dean shifted restlessly on the seat and pulled his hand away from the wound on his neck. It was still bleeding slightly.

“Will you always have to kill them then? If I can’t do it?” Sam turned away to look out the window. When he lifted his hand there was a shake to it and he stared at it for a long moment, watching the tremble of his fingers. It was a little unnerving.

"You'll do it next time. Did you see how close you were? He was almost all the way out, Sam. Just didn't give you enough blood, that's all." Dean's fingers curled tightly over the steering wheel and twisted. It was only a short distance to the motel, but it would feel like a hundred miles with the tension thick between them.

“Always more blood. More blood. It’s like you’re trying to get me addicted.” Sam frowned and dropped his hand, looking out the passenger window. He was quiet for awhile, lost somewhere in a maze of thoughts that were almost scary to consider. “I want to trust you.” He finally said quietly, keeping his gaze on the passing houses. “But I keep getting this feeling like it’s going to come back and bite my in the ass in the end.”

A bitter twinge of guilt made Dean look out the side window for a few moments. "Sam. I've never done this before; I'm learning as I go along. This is _big_ and I don't think you know how big. _Fuck_ , do you think I actually know who to trust? I have no idea. Brady was minor leagues, but he was sent to me directly - checking up on us and I knew we were moving. Knew I could keep you safe." The words were kind of tumbling over themselves to get out. "Sam. You're the only person, the only _human_ I've ever..." Dean's words trailed off as he pulled into the motel parking lot.

Turning off the engine, Dean listened to it tick quietly as it cooled down. Pulling the keys free of the ignition, he held them out for Sam. "I feel things when. I mean-" Shaking his head, Dean sighed.

“You feel things?” Sam asked quietly, reaching out for the keys and curling his hand around Dean’s to keep him in motion. “You keep saying all these things and I don’t get it. So there are demons looking for us because they want to stop you and kill me. Then there are other demons that support this cause and want to make sure you’re doing your job right. And then there’s you who... what? Has feelings for me even though you’re pretty sure you’re not supposed to or not designed to?” Sam’s brows drew together, the words were confusing enough to say, like this whole thing was a great big puzzle and he’d be thrown in the middle.

"You, you're the key to stopping Lucifer from rising, Sam. _You_. There are demons that want hell on earth, there are demons that don't and there are probably some that don't give a shit. I don't want it. Hell is ... Sam - it's brutal down there. You just have to take my word on that." Dean withdrew his hand from Sam's, pointedly ignoring the question about his feelings. "We need to get you inside."

“I’m fine.” Sam almost snapped the words, turning away from Dean and pushing the door open. Everything spun around him as he stood, but Sam pushed through it, heading for the motel door. He didn’t _like_ that he was the key to stopping Lucifer. Of course he would do it, because he had too, but how was he logically suppose to carry that load? He was basically the one person keeping the human race safe, that was almost too much.

Once inside, Sam kicked his shoes off, leaving the door wide open for Dean to follow as he tugged his coat off. “Why me?” He finally asked, swaying as he turned to Dean. “Because as a baby I was able to handle some demon blood? So therefore I’ve got to do this now?”

"You're strong enough. You tellin' me you don't feel it? You like it - the way it swells up in you - _just_ like I do. Think I let you slice me up like this because it doesn't hurt?” Dean spat the words without really thinking and regretted them instantly. Rubbing at his eyes for a few moments, Dean pushed the door closed and locked it, hand resting there for a few moments.

“Right.” Sam slowly nodded, staring over at Dean. The demon’s words made him feel dirty, and Sam realized that he really was. He was drinking demon’s blood and sleeping with one and falling... “God.” Sam rubbed his palm down his face and sighed, shaking his head. “I’m going to bed.” He tugged his shirt off, tossing it across the room before shoving out of his jeans. Things were just going from bad to worse and if he didn’t shut his brain off now he’d end up going insane. So climbing under the blankets and rolling on his side was a much better idea.

"You want me to go?" Dean leaned forward and rested his head against the door.

“Dean.” Sam whispered the name, curling in on himself and sighing softly. The real tricky thing was how little he knew of what he wanted. It actually wasn’t that complicated, he wanted Dean, he liked having Dean around. But he wasn’t sure if it was okay to want him like that, more than just a physical need. “I don’t know what to do.”

Dean's chest tightened. "Rest, Sam." Unlocking the door he pulled it open again and slipped outside. Closing the door behind him was hard, leaving Sam there alone was even harder. Waving his fingers slightly, he listened for the tell tale click of the lock and headed off across the parking lot.

Rolling over slowly, Sam stared at the door, almost in disbelief. He didn’t know why he expected Dean to comfort him, make it better somehow. It seemed fitting that he didn’t, like a prodding reminder that Dean wasn’t supposed to be that for him. Rolling back over, Sam tugged the blanket back over him and made a silent decision that things needed to change. He couldn’t be responsible for the fate of human’s and let himself get burned at the same time, he figured it was time to get his priorities straight.

-=-=-=-

Blinking his eyes open, Sam stared for a long moment, watching Dean’s sleep slack face. He shifted slightly toward him, but the blanket was pinning him, Dean’s body above the covers and fully clothed. Sam’s lips pursed into a slight frown as he considered Dean, trying to remember all the things he’d said he was going to stick to once he woke. It seemed like a whole lifetime ago.

He turned slightly, frowning deeper at the pull on his hair. Dean’s arm was stretched out toward him, finger wrapped in a thick stand of hair and holding tight. Something pinched tight in Sam’s chest and he closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. “Dean,” he whispered, forcing his eyes open again and wetting his lips. “Dean, wake up.”

Starting awake, Dean coughed and blinked his eyes rapidly a few times. "Sam," he groaned. Voice rough with sleep he winced slightly and glanced over at his hand. Untangling his finger from Sam's hair he averted his gaze. "Sorry, was worried about you," he mumbled.

“Uh huh.” Sam nodded slowly and shifted back, pushing up onto his elbow. “You can keep sleeping if you want. Are you feeling alright?” It was impossible to say if the demon was suffering pain, Sam thought most of the time he looked normal. He didn’t want Dean to be in pain and he almost reached out to him, but his hand dropped on the blanket between them.

"Sam? I'm sorry for leaving - I just- I'm fucked up you know? I'm..." Shaking his head Dean pointed a finger at his own chest. "Demon. Don't exactly get a manual on how to be ... like this." When he dropped his hand to the bed, he reached out tentatively with his little finger and brushed it along Sam's. "How are you feeling? Your head?"

“Hurts some. I’m sure pain killers will help.” Sam nodded slowly, considering Dean for a moment before lifting his hand to rest over Dean’s. “Would medicine help you?” His hand curled over Dean’s and he sighed softly. “And don’t worry about leaving, it’s- I don’t keep you bound here. You know you can come and go as you please.”

Dean smiled sadly then nodded. That stupid part of him that he kept trying to shut down had been hoping that _maybe_ Sam had needed him the night before, but when he'd come back to the room, Sam had been asleep. "Well. Good to know I can leave when I want."

Sam could keep the painkillers - Dean liked the reminder of what a stupid fuck he was being. Pulling his hand back, he sat up and rubbed at his hair. "I should clean up." He tugged at his shirt; it was partially stuck to the dried blood on his neck. "You should drink more today, I think it's building up somehow."

“Okay.” Sam stared at Dean for a long moment before pushing up, standing slowly to avoid the head rush. He turned slightly, looking over at Dean before sighing and shaking his head. “You can shower first if you want. I just.” No more of the sentence seemed to form in his mind and Sam pushed his hand up through his hair, annoyed at how agitated he felt. “We suck at this.”

"Suck at what?" Dean shrugged out of his jacket and slid closer on the bed so he could reach under Sam's pillow. Even now, the hunter still kept his knife there. "Might as well wait till after you..." He held out the knife to Sam and stretched his arm out.

“Just about the blood.” Sam muttered and grasped the knife, kneeling down on the bed again and slowly sitting. “Where this time? Arm again?” He didn’t even feel the usual heat and anticipation as he had before. Now it was just the dull pain in his head, the churn of his stomach, the ache in his chest.

Frowning, Dean looked up at the hunter's face. "What? Just about the blood?" He pulled his arm back and curled it protectively over his chest.

“That’s what this is right? It’s you telling me to drink your blood so I can stop Lucifer. And it doesn’t matter how I feel, or that it hurt when you left, or what happens in the future. As long as I can stop Lucifer.” Sam shrugged, staring down at the knife in his grasp and swallowing thickly.

"It matters how you feel." Dean scratched at his forehead for a few moments. "I came back, didn't I? Last night, I mean. You were already asleep. What do you want from me, Sam? I’m a _Demon._ " There were so many conflicting emotions whirling around in Dean's head he was pretty sure it would explode. Because, yeah, it mattered that Sam was hurt but it also mattered that Sam didn't say he _wanted_ Dean there. And it shouldn't matter. _None_ of it should matter.

“You only feel okay doing it when it’s about sex?” Dean shrugged, feeling a little bitter and juvenile. “Want me to kiss you first? Get you all worked up?” The words came out sounding far harsher than he intended.

“What are you doing?” Sam slowly looked up at Dean, eyes narrowing. “Are you trying to make me hate you now?” Reaching out quickly, Sam snagged Dean’s wrist and drew him close, pressing the knife hard to his skin. “I’m not going to- you’re-” Sam exhaled slowly and shook his head. “Forget it. Forget fucking all of it. I’ll drink your blood and then you can just go do whatever you want because I’m tired of this.” He drew the blade hard across Dean’s wrist, watching the blood pool on the skin and trying to force himself forward to drink. It wasn’t working so he only stared.

Trembling slightly, Dean groaned softly as the cut stung and burned. He blew out a breath and closed his eyes against the prick of tears in them. Things were just _too_ fucked up. He was going to get both of them killed with the way he was acting. Turning away slightly he pressed his thumb and forefinger hard into his eyes. "G'head, Sam. It's okay."

When he thought he was finally in control of his emotions, Dean turned back and slid his fingers into Sam’s hair, thumb brushing over the man’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I won’t - we’ll stick to the training if that’s what you want.” Lifting his arm slowly, he curled his fingers into a fist.

“I never said that. You don’t listen to me.” Sam whispered and stared down at the blood. His stomach rolled and his grip on Dean’s arm loosened. “I can’t do it.” He forced his gaze away, bending off the side of the bed and grabbing one of his shirts there. Balling up the material, he pressed it to the deep cut, holding down to stop the flow. “I can’t drink more of... I just can’t.” Sam grabbed Dean’s free hand and placed it over the t-shirt before pushing off the bed, pacing across the room.

"You don't make sense," Dean said softly. "You said - drink blood and then I should go and do whatever. And, I don't know. I don't know what you want from me." He ran over all of Sam's words in his head, trying to understand how things had gone so terribly wrong.

"Sam," Dean winced as he pressed the shirt again his wrist. "I'm not trying to make you hate me. I'm _trying_ to help you become what you need to be. You're right. I shouldn't have. It was wrong. Fuck, I don't know. I should have stopped things between us before I-" Swallowing, Dean sighed again and managed to stand up.

“That’s what it is, right there.” Sam spun to him, jerking his hand out as if he could make Dean understand it better. “I _want_ you. I care for you, I like you here with me. But any time I say anything close to it you hit me back with things like- like the warming me up thing, the kissing me before-” Sam inhaled sharply, pressing his finger tips hard into his eyes at the surprising bite of tears.

“I thought I meant... I thought.” Sam dropped his hand and slowly turned to Dean, giving up and letting him see the emotion on his face, see how upset he was. “Is it stupid to want to be more than your job? Should I stop feeling this way so it’s easier on both of us?”

Shaking his head slowly, Dean huffed out a breath of air. "Don't. No, you shouldn't stop. I don't know how to do this, Sam." Taking a few steps forward, Dean let the t-shirt fall to the worn carpet. "Keep tryin'a take a step back and I keep ..." His voice grew quieter and he took another step closer to Sam. He was just the right height, funny how he'd never noticed that. All he had to do was tilt his chin up slightly and his lips ghosted over Sam's jaw.

“Not being able to finish a sentence?” Sam offered in a quiet whisper, slipping his arm around Dean’s middle and drawing him in close. “I’m not king of the sentimental talks, I know it sucks, but it would help if you could just _say_ it.” His head tilted down toward Dean, forehead coming to rest against the demon’s.

Closing his eyes, Dean breathed in the smell he was not so familiar with. Sam's breath was warm on his lips and Dean licked them like somehow he could taste the past kisses. "Say what? That when I'm not here I can't even. I can't sleep, I can't think. I. It's not supposed to be like this for me. I ... I want you." Sucking in a deep breath through clenched teeth, Dean swallowed hard. "It's not just my job," he whispered.

“Good.” Sam whispered and pulled Dean in, slanting his mouth over the demon’s and kissing him far softer than he ever had before. That clenching was back in his chest, but it didn’t feel as bad, in fact Sam thought he could learn to savor those moments. When his lips broke from Dean’s, a soft laugh fell from him. “We’re a little ridiculous, you know.”

"What? A demon and a hunter having long sensitive talks in each other's arms?" Dean pressed closer, pushed aside the last of his hesitation and dragged his mouth along the hunter's jaw.

"Sam, you're so perfect." That was part of it. Sam was all the things that Dean could never be again, human, sweet, caring and clean. Free of all the baggage that attached itself to him in Hell. _In_ Hell. Shivering slightly, Dean slid his arms around Sam's neck and pulled him closer.

“Nah, just human.” Sam smiled softly and stepped back, pulling Dean with him. “Let’s take a shower together. Clean off that cut for you. I think we deserve a better start to this day then we’ve had so far.” His hand lifted, fluttering along Dean’s jaw as he walked them backward to the bathroom.

"Together?" Dean didn't mean to sound quite as turned on as he did. But seriously, the idea of the hunter, _his_ hunter wet.... nearly blew his mind. "I call you mine in my head," he blurted out as he bumped into the door.

Pulling Dean into him, Sam slid his hand under the demon’s shirt and mapped along his back, shoving the fabric up slowly. “I am yours.” He murmured softly and kissed along Dean’s jaw, stepping back only long enough to pull Dean’s shirt off.

Burying his face in Sam’s neck, Dean closed his eyes against the guilt biting at him. He could _do_ this, be more than one thing. He was sure as _hell_ gonna try.


End file.
